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Jud Jimpson Leaped to the Earthwork. 


[Page 286] 


I 


/ 

THE BOY FORTY-NINERS 

OR 


ACROSS THE PLAINS AND MOUNTAINS 
TO THE GOLD-MINES OF CALIFORNIA 
IN A PRAIRIE-SCHOONER 






BY 


EVERETT McNEIL 

AUTHOR OF 

DICKON BEND-TH E-BOW, HERMIT OF THE CULEBRA MOUNTAINS, 
THE LOST TREASURE CAVE, ETC. 



ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

HOWARD HEATH AND ADOLPH TREIDLER 

> > • 


NEW YORK 

THE McCLURE COMPANY 
MCMVIII 


Copyright^ igo8^ by ihe McClure Company 


Published, September, 1908 




UBRARY of 0«N6RE6SJ 
iwoCoDiu Keceivoe 

SEP 22 WQ 

^ UOWJfl' MllfJ 

- — 


^ ^ 
AAg« (tu. 

o ^ 


OLA^^ O- 

fTL 


a>.# 



TO 

THE BOYS AND GIRLS 
OF THE GREATER UNITED STATES 
WHO WOULD KNOW SOMETHING OF THE KIND OF 
BRAWN AND BRAIN AND COURAGE 
THAT WENT INTO THE UPBUILDING OF 
THE GREAT WEST 
THIS STORY OF ONE OF THE MOST 
IMPORTANT PHASES OF THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT 
IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY 


DEDICATED 


1 



•CV< 


w ^ / 




< 



FOREWORD 


The long chained lines of yoked and patient steers; 

The long white trains that pointed to the West, 

Beyond the savage West; the hopes and fears 
Of blunt, untutor’d men, who hardly guessed 
Their course. 

Joaquin Miller 

One clear cold day in January, 1848, a man, walk- 
ing along the tail-race of a saw-mill recently built on 
the American River in the then wilderness of the east- 
ern foot-hills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, caught 
sight of a gleam of yellow shining up through the 
water in the bottom of the ditch; and quickly reaching 
down his hand into the water, which was running about 
a foot deep, he picked up a little rounded piece of yel- 
low metal, half the size and the shape of a pea. This 
was James W. Marshall; and the bit of yellow metal 
he held in his hand was the first gold discovered in 
California. 

For two or three months afterward only vague ru- 
mours of the discovery of gold at Sutter’s Mill, as the 
saw-mill was known, reached the outside world. Then 
the rumours grew rapidly, were confirmed, and by the 
end of 1848 the wondrous news of the marvellously 
[vii] 


Foreword 

rich gold-fields found in California had spread, like 
v/ildfire, all over the civilised world. Now began the 
most remarkable exodus of gold-mad men that history 
has recorded. They came from all parts of the world. 
They belonged to all ranks and professions and condi- 
tions of life. Doctors, lawyers, merchants, clergymen, 
professors, mechanics, farmers, labourers, adventurers, 
gamblers, thieves, murderers, all jostled elbows to- 
gether in their wild anxiety to get to the mines as speed- 
ily as possible. 

Over the United States the gold fever swept like an 
epidemic. From cities and villages and farms men hur- 
ried to the mines, careless or regardless of the dangers 
and hardships to be met, if only they could reach the 
Land of Golden Promises. Some went by boat around 
Cape Horn, others by way of the Isthmus of Panama; 
but the greater number chose the more direct route 
across the great plains and mountains and deserts of 
the then unknown West, travelling in covered waggons, 
drawn by oxen, mules, or horses, and following the 
trails made by the buffalo, the Indian, or the hunter, 
which soon became plainly outlined by the whitening 
bones of their dead animals and the graves of those 
perishing from the unexpected hardships of the long 
journey. 

The Boy Forty-Niners is intended to picture to 
the eyes of the younger generations something of the 
perils braved, the hardships endured, the difficulties 

[ viii ] 


Foreword 

overcome, and the labours performed by these ven- 
turesome emigrants, who dared this long pilgrimage 
from the outposts of civilisation along the Missouri 
River, across “ The Great American Desert,” to the 
golden sands of California; and to show to them at 
what a price, in money and toil and endurance and 
pluck and courage, and even life itself, their fathers 
and mothers purchased the rich inheritance, the Greater 
United States, that they, their sons and daughters, are 
now enjoying. 

The journey made by Ray and Arthur and their 
companions was a journey made by tens of thousands 
of emigrants and gold-seekers; and the perils and hard- 
ships and labours so bravely met and overcome by our 
young friends were as courageously met and overcome 
by thousands of men and women, and even children, 
during those eventful years of ’49 and ’50. 

It is good for those who now reap, where the na- 
tion’s greatness was sown with so much toil and blood, 
to know on what solid foundations of heroism and 
pluck that greatness was built; and for such this book 
has been written. That it may add to their patriotism, 
and help to inspire a like heroism, with which to meet 
and conquer their own perils and difficulties, is the sin- 
cere hope of the author. 


[ix] 



* 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Two Boys 3 

II. Jedidiah Judson 16 

III. Ray Picks up a Card 22 

IV. The Steamboat Race 31 

V. Mildred 43 

VI. Eagle Feather 50 

VII. The Discomfiture of Grizzly Ike 64 

VIII. ‘‘Stop, Thief, Stop!’* 72 

IX. Scoot 88 

X. The Black Spots in the Darkness 102 

XI. Scoot’s “Free Papahs” no 

XII. Tom Pike 120 

XIII. An Adventure with a Bad Man 125 

XIV. The Surprise 138 

XV. JuD Jimpson’s Ash-Map 154 

XVI. “This Waggon is Bound to Go Clear 

Through to the Sacramento” 165 

XVII. The Man Behind the Rock 179 

[xi] 


Contents 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIII. In the Quicksands 193 

XIX. The Pawnee Horse-Thief 203 

XX. The Devil’s Quartet 212 

XXL Buffalo! Buffalo! 221 

XXII. The Sinful Four Again 237 

XXIII. The Mysterious Shot from Across the 

Canyon 249 

XXIV. On the Trail Beyond Fort Laramie 261 

XXV. Indians! Indians! 272 

XXVI. Red Elk 289 

XXVII. On the Backbone of the Continent 302 

XXVIII. Tom Pike’s Pocket-Knife 317 

XXIX. The Battle with the Grizzly 328 

XXX. The City of the Saints 342 

XXXI. News of the Sinful Four 351 

XXXII. The Cry in the Desert 362 

XXXIII. Robbed 376 

XXXIV. Bill and Lis 394 

XXXV. The Shower of Arrows 404 

XXXVI. At the Devil’s Slide 412 

XXXVII. The Land of Gold 422 

[xii] 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Jud Jimpson Leaped to the Earthwork. Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

“How Do, White Papoose?” 62 

“Dance! Dance, You Long-legged Villain! Dance!” 134^ 
Ray Painted the Motto on One Side of the Wagon- 


cover, and then Arthur Tried his Skill on the 
Other Side. 172 ^ 

Leveled it at the Monster whose Panting. Side Almost 

Touched the Muzzle. 232 

The Bear Stood his Ground. 338 

“ Count it. Count it.” 390 / 

“You — You Don’t Mean to Accuse Me?” 426 ^ 


u 




THE BOY FORTY-NINERS 


9 





I 




• .* 

■ . 



CHAPTER ONE 


THE TWO BOYS 

O N a hot day, in the early part of June, 1849, 
two boys were hoeing corn on a farm in 
southern Ohio. They were sturdy lads, strong 
and healthful looking, with pleasant, resolute faces and 
clear, courageous eyes. The elder and larger of the two 
youths wore a much dilapidated soft felt hat, set well 
back on the head, a “ checked ’’ gingham shirt, out at 
both elbows, and a pair of blue overalls, which reached 
to within an inch of his ankles. The remainder of his 
legs and feet were bare. He had an unusually well- 
developed form for a boy of sixteen ; wide in the shoul- 
ders, deep in the chest, narrow through the hips, and 
straight in limb, with head set squarely on a short, 
thick neck — a physique which promised to bestow on 
its owner, when he reached maturity, extraordinary 
agility and strength. 

The dress of his companion was similar, with the 
exception of the head-covering, which was a broad- 
brimmed straw hat, without a band and with a ragged 
hole in its top. He did not have the athletic proportions 
of his co-worker; but was slender in build, though of 
robust health, with a fine intellectual face, and a par- 
ticularly resolute-looking mouth and chin. 

The day was sultry, with hardly a breath of air 

[3] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

stirring; and the two boys were tired, for It was near- 
ing the noon hour and they had been hard at work since 
early sunrise. When they reached the ends of the rows 
of corn, both paused, and, resting themselves on their 
hoe handles, wiped, with their grimy sleeves, the sweat- 
drops off their hot faces. 

“ Say, Art,” and the elder boy bent his eyes long- 
ingly In the direction of the farmhouse, which crowned 
the top of a small hill some two hundred rods to the 
north of where they stood, “ Isn’t It about time that old 
dinner-horn was blowing? If It waits much longer, I 
reckon somebody will have to go hungry to-day, for I 
feel as If I could eat all one usually gets on old Thomp- 
son’s table myself.” 

“ Well, I should say It wasl ” Arthur replied, as he 
shoved the dirt off the blade of his hoe with his thumb, 
and then, drawing his hand ovjer his forehead to wipe 
the sweat therefrom, left a black streak from hair to 
chin. “ Blame that old horn anyway 1 I’ve felt as hol- 
low as a balloon for the last hour, and I’m thinking I’ll 
still have that hollow feeling when I’ve got outside of 
all I can get at the dinner-table to-day. Thompson don’t 
Intend that we shall eat him out of house and lands, 
I can tell you. Ever since I’ve been working for him 
I’ve been trying to get filled up; but the end of each 
meal still finds an aching void In the regions of my 
stomach,” and he looked ruefully to the ground. Sud- 
denly he raised his eyes, with a bright look of determi- 
nation on his face, and continued: “Say, Ray, why 
must we work for old Thompson, anyway? Why can’t 
we strike out for ourselves ; and not only leave Thomp- 
son, but also leave this place, and go somewhere else? 
I am sure we can’t be any worse off no matter where 

[4] 


The Two Boys 

we go. Everybody here knows that we are poorhouse 
boys, and they won’t treat us half decent. Maybe, if 
we could get somewhere else, we would stand more of 
a show. At least I am in favour of trying it. What do 
you say, Ray? ” 

Ray’s face showed that the proposition of his com- 
panion had startled him considerably. He flushed and 
paled and at last replied in a voice that trembled 
slightly, as he glanced about as if to see if anybody 
were within hearing distance: “Art, that is just what 
I’ve been thinking of doing for the last twenty-four 
hours, but I did not know how you would take it, so 
I hardly dared say anything to you about it. We are 
but little better than slaves here, with old Thompson 
to grind work out of us and that bully of a son of his 
to lord it over us,” and he crushed a large lump of 
dirt impatiently with his bare heel. 

“ Well, I’m ready to go and to start at once,” Ar- 
thur answered. “ I’ve had just about all I want of this 
kind of work. I know it can’t be good for the brain nor 
the health to work from four o’clock in the morning 
until nine o’clock at night. A fellow wants a little time 
to have fun. But here it’s work from the time we get 
up until we go to bed, and there isn’t much money 
in it, either — Where shall we go? ” 

Ray was looking toward his big toe, which he had 
dug deep into the loose soil. He was thinking hard; 
and it helps a boy to think hard, when he is barefooted, 
to dig his toes in the ground. Suddenly he gave the toe 
a violent fling out of the dirt, whirled around, and 
faced Arthur, his countenance flushing and his eyes 
sparkling. He had solved the problem. 

“ Let’s go to California — to the gold mines! ” he ex- 

[5] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

claimed; then he stopped abruptly and glanced around 
in a half-frightened way. 

Arthur looked blankly in his face for a moment; 
and then, dropping his hoe to the ground, he seized his 
old straw hat, and, swinging it around his head, 
shouted enthusiastically: “To California! To hunt for 
gold I Hurrah, the very thing for us to do I And I make 
a move that we start this very night. What’s to hinder? 
Neither of us has anybody, so far as he knows, who 
cares a continental whether he lives or dies or where 
he goes. Are you in earnest, Ray?” 

“ Sure 1 ” responded Ray emphatically. “ And I am 
ready to start to-night, if you are. There’s a steamboat 
going down the Ohio to-morrow loaded with gold- 
seekers. I know, because I heard Thompson telling the 
men about it this morning; and if we get a hustle on 
us to-night, we can get to the river before the boat 
passes. It’s only fifteen miles to the Ohio, and I am sure 
we can walk that distance in five or six hours. The 
steamboat will take us to St. Louis, and from there we 
can go by another steamer up the Missouri to Inde- 
pendence, where the waggon-trains start on their long 
journey across the plains and over the mountains to the 
Land of Gold. Oh, it will be great fun, and just a little 
more exciting than hoeing corn all day long for old 
Thompson, won’t it. Art? ” 

“You bet!” Arthur replied, his eyes sparkling. 
“ And we will see deers and antelopes and buffalos and 
bears and Indians, and maybe kill them, too ; and 
when we get to California we’ll find a gold mine, and 
come back rich enough to buy old Thompson out a 
dozen times over! Won’t he be surprised when he calls 
us to-morrow morning at four o’clock and we don’t 
[ 6 ] 


The Two Boys 

come tumbling down the ladder? Wonder what he’ll 
think has become of us? We won’t tell old Thompson 
anything about it, will we, Ray? ” 

“ No sir-ree ! ” Ray answered decidedly. “ He’d be 
sure to make trouble if we did. He thinks he owns us, 
just because he took us from the poorhouse and has 
kept us for the last two years, making us earn all he 
ever gave us twice over. He couldn’t get the work 
done that we do for less than twenty dollars a month, 
and he only pays the both of us eight dollars and a half 
a month. Oh, he’ll be mad all right when he finds weVe 
gone, but I don’t care. If he’d treated us half-way de- 
cent it would be different. No, there won’t be no tears 
dropping out of my eyes when I say good-bye to this 
farm,” and Ray dug his right big toe resentfully into 
the soft ground by way of emphasising the bitterness 
of his remarks. 

“ That’s exactly the way I feel,” Arthur declared. 
“ But won’t he be mad? Well, we’ll give him what he 
owes us, to make up for our sudden going. It’s not 
much, but a little money looks mighty big to Thomp- 
son. Let me see, he owes me about one dollar and sev- 
enty cents.” 

“ And me two dollars and ten cents,” broke in Ray. 
“ That makes three dollars and eighty cents. Well, let 
him have it. We’ll soon be digging up gold by the bas- 
ketful, like we do potatoes here. Hurrah for Califor- 
nia ! — Hello, there goes the dinner-horn at last! Re- 
member, mum’s the word. Art.” 

The two boys stuck their hoes up in the ground, and 
hurried to the farmhouse, where, as they expected, 
their hunger was only half appeased when the dinner- 
table was emptied of all eatables. They said but little 

[7] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

while in the presence of the farmer or any of his fam- 
ily, but when alone by themselves in the corn field 
again that afternoon their tongues rattled away as 
though they would never stop; and by night they had 
everything planned for starting before morning. 

Arthur and Ray slept in a small loft in the north end 
of the barn, “ good enough for poorhouse kids ” ac- 
cording to farmer Thompson; and as soon as the 
chores were done that night, they started for this room, 
where they could be alone to talk over that wonderful 
journey to California which they were so soon to begin. 

The farmer thought they were tired, and took no 
special notice of their early bed-going, except to call 
out, as they climbed up the ladder to the loft: “ That’s 
right, boys. Get to bed early, for you must get up to- 
morrow morning at three o’clock. I’m going to town 
and I want to get an early start; so don’t let me have 
to call you more than once, or I’ll come up and throw 
you down.” 

Ray and Arthur chuckled, and Ray said : “ Won’t 
the old fellow’s face look blank when he climbs up that 
long ladder to throw us sleepy kids down, and finds us 
gone? And won’t he swear? ’Twould be as good as a 
circus to see and hear him; and we must miss it! ” 

“ Well, I won’t miss it,” Arthur declared emphati- 
cally. “ I’ve heard every cuss-word in old Thompson’s 
dictionary, and I hope I’ll never hear one of them 
again.” 

The moment the two boys were in the loft and the 
door shut tightly they set the lantern, the only light 
allowed them, down on the floor, and looked excitedly 
into each other’s eyes. 

“ Now for getting ready! ” exclaimed Ray. 

[ 8 ] 


The Two Boys 

“ Let’s get our money and count it the first thing, 
so that we’ll know just how much we’ve got,” suggested 
Arthur. “ I think I’ve got fifty-nine dollars and thirty- 
four cents, but I’m not sure.” 

“ And I had seventy-three dollars and eighty-two 
cents before I bought my last shirt, which cost sixty-five 
cents. This should leave me seventy-three dollars and 
seventeen cents,” asserted Ray. “ Come, we’ll make 
sure. We’ll get our hidden treasure and count the cash,” 
and he hurried to the northeast corner of the loft. On 
the wall hung a short string about two feet long. Ray 
took this string, got down on his hands and knees, and 
began carefully measuring with it over the floor, begin- 
ning from the corner. “ Three strings due south from 
northeast corner, then two and one-half strings west to 
black knot, thence one string south to long crack, up 
long crack to round knot hole, place finger in hole and 
pull up board,” he murmured, as he made the required 
measurements, pulled up the board, thrust his hand 
down into the cavity, and pulled out a round tin can, 
with its cover tied firmly on with strong twine. 

In the meantime Arthur had been going through 
much the same formalities, starting from another cor- 
ner of the room and ending with the discovery of 
another tin can underneath another board. 

The two boys always went through this ceremony 
before getting their treasure, not that it was at all neces- 
sary — each could have found his particular hoard with 
his eyes blindfolded; but it gave an air of romantic re- 
ality to their treasure-hiding very fascinating to the 
lads, besides, as Arthur said, “ if anything should hap- 
pen to us, we could tell anybody exactly how to find the 
treasure.” 


[9] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

In a moment more Ray and Arthur were squatted on 
the floor in front of the lantern, counting the hoardings 
saved since leaving the poorhouse two years before. 

“ I’ve got exactly fifty-nine dollars and twenty-three 
cents,” Arthur declared, when he had finished his count. 
“ I knew it was fifty-nine dollars and something. How 
much have you got, Ray? ” 

“ Precisely seventy-three dollars and seventeen 
cents,” Ray responded triumphantly. “ I thought I was 
right. Now, that makes one hundred and thirty-two 
dollars and forty cents in all, a lot of money, but not 
enough to buy our outfits and pay our way to Cali- 
fornia. We’ll have to work our way whenever we can, 
Art. Shouldn’t wonder if we could get a job on the 
boat going down to St. Louis,” he added hopefully. 

“ Of course we can,” Arthur asserted confidently. 
“ Anyway we have enough money to give us a good 
start, and I am sure we can find lots of things to do to 
earn money while we are on the way. You know where 
there’s a will there’s a way — even to California; and 
we’ll find the way, if we have to make it. Now, when 
had we better be getting out of here, Ray? ” and Ar- 
thur glanced, a bit regretfully, about the room that 
had been the only home they had known for so many 
months. 

“ The sooner the better,” Ray replied quickly; “ for 
the farther we get from here before morning the bet- 
ter ’twill be for us. Shouldn’t wonder if old Thompson 
tried to find us and bring us back. He can’t get anybody 
else to do the work we’ve been doing for anywhere 
near the same money we’ve been getting, and he’ll miss 
us bad. Besides, everybody’s going to the gold mines, 
and he’ll find it mighty hard to get help of any kind. 
[ lo] 


The Two Boys 

So I fancy we’d better be starting just as soon as it is 
safe, about an hour after the light goes out in the 
house, then ” 

“ What in thunder are you keeping that lantern 
burning so long for? ” shouted up an angry voice from 
the darkness below. “ Blow it out and go to bed, or I’ll 
come up and give your hides a warming, you poorhouse 
rats.” 

Ray and Arthur jumped at the sound of the unex- 
pected voice as if a pistol had been fired off close be- 
hind their backs, shoved the money quickly into their 
pockets, and blew out the lantern. 

“ Much obliged. Bill,” Arthur called back as soon as 
this had been done, “ but our hides don’t need no warm- 
ing. Save your heat for next winter. Light’s out. Bill. 
Good-night, Bill. See you the next time we meet, Bill.” 

“Think you’re smart, don’t you?” responded the 
voice wrathfully. “ Well, I’ll make you smart in the 
morning.” 

“ All right. Bill,” Ray shouted back. “ Make us 
smart in the morning. Good-night, Bill.” 

The boys heard the barn door slam shut and the 
crunch of heavy boots on the gravel outside, and knew 
that “ Bill ” Thompson, the farmer’s son, had gone 
back to the house. 

“ There, I hope that’s the last we ever see or hear 
of that bully ! ” exclaimed Arthur fervently. “ He’s 
treated us like dogs from the day old Thompson 
brought us from the poorhouse; and if I ever meet him 
when I’m a man grown I’ll — ” and Arthur doubled up 
his right fist and shook it under Ray’s nose, an act 
which every boy will understand without any further 
explanations on my part. 

[II] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Me, too ! ” Ray declared with more emphasis than 
grammar. “ But you won’t catch him getting in our way 
when we’re men. He’s too big a coward. All bullies 
are. But forget him. We have more important things 
to think of now. There are our trunks to pack before 
we’re off for the golden sands of California,” and Ray 
laughed. 

Fortunately the moon was shining brightly, and its 
rays, entering through a large window in the south side 
of the room, furnished the two boys with sufficient 
light to pack their “ trunks ” without the aid of the 
lantern. The “ trunks ” were two very large and strong 
red bandanna handkerchiefs; and the “packing” con- 
sisted In securely tying up In each of the “ trunks ” one 
shirt (clean), one pair of socks (clean), one pair of 
trousers of cheap material but nearly new, a coat and 
vest to match the trousers, one handkerchief (clean), 
one box of paper collars, and one necktie. A comb, a 
toothbrush, and a few other little trinkets they stowed 
away In their pockets. The money was securely tied in 
strong linen handkerchiefs and tucked away In their 
pockets. They had decided not to put on their good 
clothes until they reached the river, or it became light 
enough for people to see how they were dressed, and 
thus save them as much as possible from the dust of the 
road ; and so they did not change their clothes, but kept 
on their old overalls and shirts. Each lad had a nearly 
new pair of boots, which he now put on his feet, to pro- 
tect them in the darkness. 

“ Just look and see If the old man’s light Is out. 
Art,” Ray asked, as he pulled on his boots. “ I’m get- 
ting anxious to be off.” 

Arthur hurried to one of the windows. “ Not a sign 
[ 12 ] 


The Two Boys 

of a light in the whole house,” he reported; “ and I 
think if we are careful to make no noise, it will be safe 
for us to go now.” 

Silently each lad gripped his bundle in his right 
hand; and then both turned involuntarily for a last 
look around the room that had been their home for 
two years. The bed was the only bought furniture in 
the room, and that had been cast out of the house as 
too old and battered for further use. A couple of soap 
boxes had served as chairs. The floor and walls and 
ceiling were of rough unplaned pine boards, full of 
knot holes and covered with dust and cobwebs. A few 
pictures cut from the illustrated papers were tacked on 
the walls. A more barren and inhospitable-looking 
room it would be hard to imagine ; and yet it was dear 
to the hearts of these lonely boys, to whom every knot 
hole and dusty board was as familiar as the face of a 
friend; and there were tears in their eyes as they turned 
and cautiously opened the door and crept down the 
ladder. 

Thompson kept all the doors of the barn strongly 
locked, but this did not trouble the boys. A window in 
the side of the barn opposite the house gave them an 
easy and a safe exit; and with violently throbbing 
hearts they opened this window, dropped to the ground 
outside, ran across the barnyard, jumped over the 
fence, and started on the run down the road, which they 
knew ran straight south clear to the Ohio River, which 
it crossed, by means of a ferry, at the spot where they 
expected to meet the boat bound for St. Louis. 

The two boys, Ray Norman and Arthur Walton, 
whom we have just started on their long journey for far- 
off California, a journey whose perils and privations 

[13] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

it was well they could not foresee, were, as we have 
already hinted, poorhouse boys. Ray’s father, a cir- 
cus athlete, had been killed accidentally while the 
show was giving a performance in a neighbouring 
town; and the circus management had promptly and 
heartlessly turned over the boy, then but five years old, 
to the county poorhouse, declaring that they knew 
nothing whatever of the lad’s parents except that the 
dead athlete had claimed to be his father, and that now, 
so far as they knew, he was without a friend or relative 
in the world. On the athlete’s hand was found a curious 
ring, made by the twisting together of two gold vipers, 
whose raised heads met, and, holding between their 
jaws a blood-red ruby, formed the set of the ring. Ray 
wore this ring, suspended by a strong string, around 
his neck, and valued it greatly as a possible clew that 
might some day tell him something of his parentage. 

Arthur, when a babe, had been left at the poorhouse 
one dark night, labelled Arthur Walton. No clew to the 
one who had left him there could be found, and he 
had been brought up in the poorhouse, until some 
two years before the opening of this story, when farmer 
Thompson had applied to the poorhouse for two boys, 
and Arthur and Ray had been turned over to his ten- 
der mercies. He was a rough, brutal man, with no more 
thought for the boys than he had for his horses; and 
Ray’s and Arthur’s life on the farm had been an ex- 
ceedingly hard one, aggravated by the needlessly cruel 
bullying of the farmer’s only son, already known to 
the reader as Bill. 

Ray had but one friend, and that was Arthur; and 
Arthur had but one friend, and that was Ray; and, 
consequently, the two lads had clung together since 

[ 14] 


The Two Boys 

their early childhood, and refused to be separated. 
Farmer Thompson had taken both the boys, not from 
any kindness of heart, but because he needed their 
help; and now he valued their labour far too much to 
care to have them leave him. The boys, notwithstand- 
ing their unfortunate surroundings, were bright, manly 
fellows, honest and industrious, and, withal, two as 
plucky lads as one could find in a long day’s walk. 


[15] 


CHAPTER TWO 


JEDIDIAH JUDSON 

T he morning’s sun was just beginning to 
brighten the eastern skies when Ray and Ar- 
thur, footsore and leg weary, came within 
sight of the Ohio River. About forty rods from the 
river bank they entered a little clump of thick woods, 
and there exchanged their clothes, throwing away 
their old shirts and overalls and putting on the good 
clothes they had brought with them in their “ trunks,” 
even to collars and neckties. When they had completed 
their toilet they stood up and looked at each other to 
compare results. 

“ Your neck or your tie is on crooked,” warned 
Arthur. 

“ And your legs are altogether too short for your 
pants,” laughed Ray. “ Better sit down and let me 
stretch them. I have heard of people having their legs 
pulled, and maybe it was because their pants were too 
long.” 

“ Well, your legs need sawing off about a foot,” Ar- 
thur rejoined. “ I can almost see the tops of your boots. 
Better stick your pants down in your boot-tops, and 
then nobody’ll know but what they’re plenty long 
enough. Say but I’m tired and sleepy and hungry! 
Let’s see if we can’t get something to eat down at the 

[i6] 


Jedidiah Judson 

ferry. Wonder when that boat’ll be along. Come on. 
We’re looking fine enough to go to the President’s re- 
ception. Shouldn’t wonder if they would take us for 
two noblemen in disguise,” and Arthur hurried away 
toward the half-dozen houses that clustered around the 
ferry and the steamboat landing, and Ray hurried after 
him. 

The ferryman gave the two hungry boys a hearty 
breakfast, and told them that the boat was expected to 
be along about ten o’clock, if she didn’t get stuck on a 
mud-bank or sand-bar or run into a snag or blow up; 
and if they wanted to get a “ snack of sleep,” to crawl 
into his bunk and he would wake them when the 
steamer hove in sight. 

At first the boys declined the sleep, but soon their 
weariness and drowsiness overcame even their young 
enthusiasm, and they gladly stretched themselves out 
on the ferryman’s bunk, and in five minutes more they 
were continuing their journey to California on the 
wings of sleep. 

At this date, 1849, steamboating was in its infancy; 
and the rude, uncomfortable steamers of those days 
were about as much like the palatial structures that 
plough through the waters of to-day as the rough log 
cabins of the pioneers were like the elegant homes now 
occupied by their descendants. This was especially true 
of the boats that plied up and down the Western rivers, 
as the Ohio, the Mississippi, and the Missouri were then 
termed. They were unsightly, uncomfortable, and dan- 
gerous ; apt to blow up and to catch fire, and in constant 
peril from the huge trees floating in the current and the 
snags hidden beneath the . waters. Indeed, travellers 
were often gravely cautioned to keep as near the stern 

[17] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

of the boat as possible, “ because the steamboats gen- 
erally blew up forward.” And yet these same ungainly 
and dangerous crafts were the marvels of their genera- 
tion, and played a most important part in the great 
movement West, when the waterways were the most 
accessible highways westward, and the transconti- 
nental railroad was yet but a dream of visionary men. 

It was nearing the noon hour before the distant whis- 
tle of one of these “ barges of Western civilisation ” 
warned the ferryman that it was time to awaken the 
two boys, who were still sleeping soundly. 

“ Hi, there, you boys! ” he yelled, sticking his head 
in the door of the room where they lay. “Wake up! 
Wake up! Your steamer didn’t blow up. She’s 
a-comin’ ’round th’ Big Bend like a house afire. Wake 
up!” 

Ray jumped and answered: “ All right! Be down in 
a minute ! ” Then he rubbed his eyes and stared around 
the room. “ Jee-my'-mee ! I thought that was old 
Thompson calling,” and he leaped out of the bunk and 
rushed out of the room, followed by Arthur. 

“Where, where’s the boat?” and both boys stared 
blankly at the empty steamboat landing. “ Where’s the 
boat? ” and their eyes looked excitedly up the river. 

“ Them’s her smoke chimneys, them two tall black 
things belchin’ out smoke that you can see marchin’ 
’round that p’int of land, an’ I reckon th’ boat’s cornin’ 
along with them,” and the ferryman pointed a long 
finger up the river. 

Ray and Arthur watched the approach of the steam- 
boat with fascinated eyes. It was the first steamboat 
they had ever seen; and as the puffing and snorting 
monster, breathing smoke and flame, drew up to the 

[i8] 


Jedidiah Judson 

landing, with machinery creaking and groaning and 
help shouting, it seemed to the two boys like some mar- 
vellous conveyance newly arrived from another world, 
and ready to bear them away to a land of strange and 
unknown wonders; and it was not without a feeling of 
awe and dread that they walked up the gangplank and 
stood on the boat’s deck, tightly gripping their bundles 
and staring, with excited eyes and flushed faces, at the 
strange scene of which they were now themselves a 
part. They felt as if their great journey to the Land 
of Gold was now, indeed, about to be fittingly begun on 
this uncanny monster that swam the waters of the great 
river like some huge duck. 

“ Well, this is a little more exciting and interesting 
than hoeing corn ! ” Arthur exclaimed, his eyes shin- 
ing. “ I didn’t suppose a steamboat was like this ! My 
but isn’t it big? There must be ’most a hundred people 
on it, besides I don’t know how many horses and wag- 
gons on the lower deck; and to think that steam, just 
ordinary everyday steam that comes puffing out of a 
teakettle, pulls all this load, boat and all, over the water 
faster than a team can run. It’s wonderful ! ” and the 
poor boy, who had never before travelled a dozen 
miles in all his young life, gazed up and down the 
length of the boat with astonished eyes. 

“It’s great!” was Ray’s emphatic response. 
“ Makes a fellow feel as if something was doing. Won- 
der if all these folks are bound for California, too?” 
and his eyes roamed curiously over the men and women 
and children who had all come out on deck to witness 
the landing of the boat. “ I’ll bet that big fellow in a 
broad-brimmed hat standing over there by the stair- 
way is going. I can see California sticking out all over 

[19] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

his face and clothes. He’s beginning to dress like a 
miner already. Miners always wear broad-brimmed 
hats and woollen shirts and belts — Jee-my'-mee ! What 
was that? ” and Ray jumped about two feet up in the 
air and stared wildly above his head. 

“ That,” smiled a tall, lank man, standing a few feet 
away from the boys, “ was the silvery voice of the 
steamboat whistle, warning all good folks that this 
boat is about to pull out; and if you don’t want to go 
along you’d better be making some quick moves for 
the shore.” 

“ Wh-e-w! ” and Ray stared in admiring wonder at 
the steam whistle. “ That beats old Thompson’s din- 
ner-horn all hollow ! ” 

“ Come, lads,” and the tall man looked inquiringly 
at Ray and Arthur. “If you don’t want your folks to 
be doing some tall worrying about you, you had better 
be making a break for dry land. This boat’s going to 
pull out in about two jerks of one lamb’s tail.” 

“ Old Thompson is the only one that’ll do any wor- 
rying about us,” Arthur answered, smiling at the 
thought of how the old farmer’s face must have looked 
that morning when he found the loft empty; “ and he’d 
be only too glad to get rid of us if he didn’t need our 
work. We’re not wanting to get off the boat. Thank 
you. We, Ray and I, are going to California to dig for 
gold,” and Arthur insensibly drew himself up proudly, 
and no wonder, for it was a big statement to be made 
by so small a boy. 

The man regarded them curiously for a moment, a 
quizzical smile on his face. “ Running away, are you? ” 
and the smile broadened. “ And going to California to 
dig for gold? Well, that’ll be great fun, and I’ve a no- 
[ 20 ] 


Jedidiah Judson 


tion to go along with you. What do you say to Jedidiah 
Judson, Jed Jud for short, for a partner?” and he 
bowed with extravagant courtesy to the two boys. 

“ Oh, you’d do on a pinch,” Arthur answered a bit 
saucily. “ But we’re not running away, leastwise not 
from anybody who has any right to us; and I don’t 
think we’d care for a partner, at least not just yet. But 
when we do, we’ll think of you,” he concluded mag- 
nanimously. 

“ Thank you,” and Jed Judson laughed. “ Well,” he 
added heartily, “ I’m glad to get acquainted with you 
two boys anyhow. Shake, comrades. I’m bound for the 
Land of Gold, too,” and he gripped the hand of each 
boy warmly. 

At this moment the gangplank was pulled in, the 
whistle blew again, a bell tinkled, and, with fearful 
groanings, the engines started, the two great paddle- 
wheels began to revolve, the boat slowly moved away 
from the landing, and the fateful journey to far-off 
California, the Land of Gold, was fairly begun. 


V 


[ 21 ] 



CHAPTER THREE 


RAY PICKS UP A CARD 

C AN you tell us where we can find the captain, 
Mr. Judson?” and Ray turned from watch- 
ing the fast receding buildings of the steam- 
boat landing to the tall man, who still stood near. “We 
want to see him about working our way to St. Louis. 
You see we haven’t very much money, and we want to 
save all that we can of it for our outfits and expenses 
while crossing the plains and mountains.” 

“ That’s him,” answered Mr. Judson, pointing to a 
short, thick-set man standing near the door of what the 
boys afterward learned was the captain’s cabin. “ Just 
tell him that Jed Judson sent you to him, and I 
shouldn’t wonder if he’d find something for you to do. 
I happen to know that he’s a little short of help,” he 
added, with a merry twinkle in his pleasant blue eyes. 

Ray and Arthur thanked their new friend, and at 
once hurried away to interview the captain. 

Captain Bently, of the Queen of the Ohio^ as the 
steamer was named, received them brusquely, as was 
befitting a man of his importance when dealing with 
boys. “Work your way to St. Louis!” he exclaimed, 
staring arrogantly at the two lads, as soon as Arthur 
had made known their wish to work their passage. 
“ And pray, what do you suppose I am running this 
[ 22 ] 


Ray Picks Up a Card 

steamboat for? ’Tain’t no charity institution where you 
can work for your board and keep. It’s a steamboat, 
an’ run on business principles,” and he swelled visibly 
before the eyes of the quailing boys. “ Work your way I 
What could two country lubbers like you do? No, 
you’ll hand over the cash, my sons, or off you go at the 
next landing.” 

“ But Mr. Jedidiah Judson sent us to you. He told 
us that you were short of help, and would be almost 
sure to find something for us to do,” stammered 
Ray. 

“Hey! What’s that? Jedidiah Judson sent you!” 
and Captain Bently stopped short in the doorway of 
his cabin, which he had been about to enter, and turned 
to the two lads with something like a gruff heartiness 
in his manner. “ Want to work your way to St. Louis, 
do you ? Well, well, let me see. Ah, I have it,” and Cap- 
tain Bently strode to the head of the stairway leading 
to the deck below and bellowed : “ Tim, Tim Sulli- 
van ! ” 

“Ay, ay, sorr!” came bellowing back up the 
stairway. 

“ I’m sending down two boys to work their passage 
to St. Louis. Give them a job at wood-slinging.” 

“ All right, sorr.” 

“ Report to Tim Sullivan below,” and the captain 
turned to Ray and Arthur. “ He’ll tell you what to do,” 
and the pompous official hurried back to his cabin, 
while the boys started down-stairs, wondering not a 
little why the name of Jedidiah Judson had wrought so 
marvellously in their favour. 

Tim Sullivan was a brawny, good-natured, red- 
headed Irishman. He greeted the boys with a broad 

[23] 


/ 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

smile of welcome, and informed them that their work 
would be to help load the wood used in firing the en- 
gine, and for which the boat stopped at certain places 
along the river bank, where great quantities of wood 
had been cut and piled ready for loading. 

“ Begorra, an’ it’s all fun excipt whin your worrkin’, 
an’ thin ye’ve got to make your arms go loik steam 
pistons, bedad,” he explained. “ Now, hoist yourselves 
up on thot woodpile an’ watch the landscape run by. 
I’ll not be wantin’ ye for the loik of an hour or more, 
not until the nixt wood-landin’,” and he waved a huge 
hand toward a pile of cord-wood on the deck. 

Ray and Arthur climbed upon the wood and sat 
down. Everything about them was new and strange to 
their eyes, from the great boat and its contents, now 
moving swiftly through the water, to the fleeing shore. 
Only a little ways from where they sat were the great 
boilers of the engine, with two men almost constantly 
throwing sticks of cord-wood into their glowing fire- 
boxes. They could see the mighty machinery at work, 
the great bars of steel that moved the shafts that turned 
the paddle-wheels jerking back and forth like the arms 
of an enormously muscular giant. It was a fascinating 
sight, and it was long before they could take their eyes 
from it. The deck was crowded with men and women 
and children and horses and waggons and merchandise 
of every kind. There was something interesting to see 
in whatever direction they turned their eyes; and the 
time passed so quickly that it seemed only a few minutes 
to the two boys, though in reality it was nearly two 
hours, before the boat turned shoreward and stopped at 
a small wharf nearly covered with a great pile of cord- 
wood. 


Ray Picks Up a Card 

“ Now, me hearties, get a quick move on you and 
show us what thim arms of yourn are good for I ” 
shouted Tim Sullivan. 

Half a dozen men, with Ray and Arthur among 
them, sprang on to the wharf, and began tossing the 
sticks of cord-wood on board, working as if their lives 
depended on getting that wood on the boat as quickly 
as possible. In half an hour the wood was loaded and 
the boat again moving on her way down the river ; and 
Ray and Arthur had had their first taste of working 
their way on a river steamboat. 

“ Hu ! ” Arthur ejaculated, as he sank down com- 
pletely exhausted on a bundle of blankets that lay near 
the cord-wood now piled up high on the deck. “ I don’t 
believe I could have stood it another five minutes to 
save my life. Every muscle was all of a-tremble when 
I slung that last stick on board; but I wasn’t going to 
let them men know how near tuckered I was. I hope we 
don’t strike another wood-landing for a week.” 

“ My sentiments, too,” laughed Ray. “ It’s worse 
than binding oats in harvest time while it lasts, but, 
thank goodness, it don’t last long. Tim hit it about 
right, didn’t he, when he said, ‘ It’s all fun excipt whin 
your worrkin’, and thin ye’ve got to make your arms 
go loik piston rods,’ ” and Ray gratefully stretched out 
his tired legs and arms and back on the pile of blankets 
by the side of Arthur. 

For nearly an hour the boys lay on the blankets too 
tired to move; but youth quickly recovers itself, and 
at the end of that time they were up and about, eager 
to see all that was going on, Tim Sullivan told them 
that they would not reach the next wood-landing until 
about ten o’clock that night, and gave them permission 

[25] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

to wander at will over the boat until that time. After 
the ten-o’clock loading they could go to bed and sleep 
until he awoke them for the next wood-landing, which 
would be sometime around five o’clock in the morning. 
Ray and Arthur thanked him, and at once set out to 
explore the boat. 

They found the poorer passengers — men, women, 
and children — crowded together, along with horses 
and waggons and all sorts of merchandise, on the lower 
deck. On the upper deck were the wealthier passengers, 
largely made up of those who were able to hire state- 
rooms. A long, narrow cabin ran through the centre of 
this deck, from end to end, opening into staterooms on 
both sides, and with a long table running through its 
centre, and the stern end partitioned off into a small 
ladies’ cabin. The bar occupied the extreme other end 
of the long cabin. Men sat in groups along the table 
playing cards, and in front of the bar, smoking and 
drinking and talking loudly and excitedly, was an ever- 
changing throng made up of men of nearly all nation- 
alities and vocations. Southern planters. Northern 
farmers. Western hunters, merchants, lawyers, doc- 
tors, gamblers, sports, all were represented there; and, 
judging from their talk, nearly all of them were on 
their way to the gold-fields of California. Near the end 
of the table next to the bar sat four men playing cards ; 
and as Ray and Arthur passed by these men they saw 
a card drop from the hands of one of the men and fall, 
apparently, unnoticed to the floor. 

“ You dropped a card, mister,” and, stooping 
quickly, Ray picked up the fallen card and offered it 
to the man who had dropped it, who, to Ray’s astonish- 
ment, whirled quickly around in his chair, and told him 
[26] 


Ray Picks Up a Card 

angrily to mind his own business, that he had dropped 
no card. 

‘‘ But I saw it fall from your hand,” protested the 
surprised boy, still keeping his hand extended with the 
card in it. 

The man’s face whitened; but before he could again 
speak one of the other men quickly arose from his 
chair, and, reaching out his hand, demanded : “ Let me 
see that card, youngster,” and he caught the card out 
of Ray’s hand. The instant his eyes fell on the face of 
the card he turned, with blazing eyes, on the first man, 
who, white and trembling, had jumped to his feet. 
“You infernal cheat! You black-leg gambler!” he 
yelled. “ You’d cheat me out of my hard-earned money, 
would you? ” and his right fist shot out straight from 
his shoulder, and catching the gambler under the jaw, 
lifted him off his feet and sent him to the floor like a 
log. 

In an instant the boys found themselves in the centre 
of a yelling, pushing, excited mass of men, who surged 
threateningly around the gambler and his enraged an- 
tagonist. 

For a brief moment the gambler lay stunned; then 
he leaped to his feet, his face white as chalk, his eyes 
flashing like points of fire, and his right hand going 
back swiftly toward his hip pocket; but before he could 
draw his pistol, a dozen hands had seized him, and he 
was disarmed. 

In those rougher days men did not always wait for 
the slow process of the law to mete out justice, and in 
half an hour the gambler had been tried and con- 
demned to be put ashore, without arms or food, to find 
his way as best he could to some settlement. Nor was 

[ 27 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

this as light a punishment as it might appear, for the 
region through which the boat was passing at that time 
was an almost unbroken wilderness of huge trees and 
thick underbrush. 

The captain was at once notified of the decision, and 
the steamer slowed down. A boat was lowered, and the 
gambler, who was known to the fraternity as Slim 
George, was placed in it, rowed to the shore, and left 
standing alone in the midst of a desolate wilderness of 
trees and bushes. 

“ My boy, if you ever meet that cur again you want 
to look out for him,” and the man who had knocked 
Slim George down laid a friendly hand on Ray’s shoul- 
der. “ He’ll do you dirt, if he ever gets the chance, the 
ornery cuss I I saw him take a good long look at your 
face, as if he wanted to photograph it on his memory. 
He hates you worse than pisen, because you spoiled his 
little game and got him into all this trouble. Now, you 
did me a mighty good turn, young fellow, when you 
picked up that card; and if there’s anything Tom Raw- 
lins can do for you kids, why speak right out in meet- 
ing. You’ll find Tom Rawlins there every time.” 

Tom Rawlins was a huge, massively built man, fully 
six feet and four inches in height, and as strong and 
sturdy looking as an oak tree. He stood straight as an 
arrow, and held his shoulders squarely, while he 
handled his massive frame with the ease and grace of 
a trained athlete. His face went well with his huge 
body, square and massy, with a touch of a good-natured 
bulldog in it that gave him a look of resolution and 
courage that fitted well with his physical appearance. 
His eyes were blue, the blue of flashing steel when 
angry. Altogether he looked like a tremendously fine 
• [28] 


May Picks Up a Card 

fellow to have for a friend, and a fearfully bad man to 
have for an enemy. 

Indeed, this was Ray’s first thought, when, some- 
what to his confusion, the young giant had laid his 
hand on the boy’s shoulder and spoken his words of 
friendly warning and thanks, as the lad stood watching 
the boat carrying Slim George, the gambler, to the 
shore; and many times afterward he had occasion to 
remember the justness of this first impression of Tom 
Rawlins. He certainly made a tremendously fine fellow 
to have for a friend; but Heaven pity the man who 
made an enemy of Tom Rawlins ! 

“ Oh, I didn’t know — Thank you,” stammered 
Ray, in response to the big man’s hearty words. “ He 
dropped his card and I thought I’d be polite and hand 
it back to him.” 

‘‘ And he didn’t appreciate your politeness a little 
bit, did he?” laughed the man. “ Well, he knows the 
weight of Tom Rawlins’s fist now, and I reckon he’ll 
take a long look at the next feller before he tries any 
of his cheating games on him. A man has got to stand 
on his own feet in this world, my boy, and sometimes,” 
he added with a laugh, “ if he keeps on his own feet 
he’s got to knock the other feller off his underpinning. 
Remember, yell for Tom Rawlins if you’re in trouble, 
and he’ll come like a house afire,” and he hurried away 
to another part of the boat. 

Ray and Arthur had both had enough excitement for 
the immediate present, and they remained on deck by 
themselves, watching the swiftly passing shores and 
talking in low, excited voices over the wonderful hap- 
penings of the day, and planning and dreaming of the 
still more wonderful days yet to come. When it became 

[ 29 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

too dark to see they went below, so as to be on hand 
when Tim Sullivan wanted them. The boat reached the 
wood-landing a little after ten o’clock; and for another 
half hour they were worked until it seemed as if their 
arms and legs and backs must break in two, but at last 
the last stick was on board, and they were at liberty to 
go to bed. Tim Sullivan gave each of them a couple of 
blankets, and pointing out a sheltered spot on the floor 
of the deck, bade them roll themselves up in their 
blankets and go to sleep. 

“ Say, but we’ve had a great old time to-day, haven’t 
we, Ray?” Arthur murmured, as he snuggled up to 
Ray under the blankets. “ My, but I am tired and 
sleepy ! ” 

“ You bet ! ” was Ray’s emphatic response. “ I like 
Tom Rawlins, don’t you. Art? ” 

But there came no reply from Arthur, for the tired 
boy was already sound asleep ; and Ray closed his eyes, 
and soon followed him to the land of dreams. 


[30] 


CHAPTER FOUR 


THE STEAMBOAT RACE 

T he two boys awoke the next morning, feel- 
ing,” as Arthur expressed it, “ as if they’d 
been made over brand-new,” except for a 
slight stiffness and soreness of the muscles, which soon 
wore off. Their work, although exceedingly hard while 
it lasted, occupied but a small part of their time; and 
the good-natured Irishman, Tim Sullivan, allowed 
them to do as they pleased with the unemployed bal- 
ance, only stipulating that they be on hand promptly 
whenever a wood-landing was made. This the boys 
gladly promised, and conscientiously fulfilled. 

They spent the greater portion of their time listening 
to the men talking of the wonderful gold mines of Cali- 
fornia. It seemed as if nearly every man on board was 
bound for that marvellous land of the shining gold; 
and nobody could talk or think of anything else but 
the gold, and how to get to it, and what they would 
do when they had made their “ pile.” Wonderful sto- 
ries were circulated of the rich “ finds ” that had been 
made, and implicitly believed. At every stopping place 
newspapers were eagerly bought and anxiously scanned 
for the latest gold news, and at every fresh story of 
the richness of this new Eldorado the excitement grew. 

[31] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

All were gold mad, and, because of this madness, were 
rushing forth, many of them blindly, across a continent, 
in the face of perils and hardships that no sane man 
would think of enduring except at the bidding of this 
same Yellow God, whose throne is red, and ever has 
been and ever will be, with the blood of his maddened 
worshippers. And before the night of the second day 
Ray and Arthur were as mad as the maddest, and, boy- 
like, were building castles, whose pinnacles shone 
golden far above the highest clouds, and whose foun- 
dations rested on the yet undug yellow gold of far- 
off California. But early on the morning of the third 
day there came to the good steamboat, the Queen of 
the Ohio^ a greater even than the gold god, the thing 
men call Death; and under the dark shadows of his 
black wings no eyes searched for the yellow gleam of 
gold, but “ Life ! Life ! ” was the one imploring cry 
of all. 

Shortly after sunrise, on this fatal morning, the 
Queen of the Ohio steamed into the muddy waters of 
the Mississippi, and swung northward on her way to 
St. Louis; and in doing this she came abreast another 
steamer, the Lady Belle, coming up the Mississippi 
from the south and also bound for St. Louis. For a time 
the two boats swam side by side, not more than one 
hundred feet apart, while the captains, the crews, and 
the passengers shouted greetings to one another, and 
exchanged news. The two boats looked much the same 
so far as size and general appearance went, but the 
Lady Belle was evidently the newer boat. Both boats 
were crowded with passengers and overloaded with 
merchandise. 

Presently the Lady Belle began to draw ahead, just 

[32] 


The Steamboat Race 

a little, and slowly. Then the passengers on the Lady 
Belle began to wave their handkerchiefs, and call 
“good-byes,” and some one sung out boastfully: 
“ When we get to St. Louis we’ll tell them that you’re 
coming, too”; and a man in the stern of the Lady 
Belle yelled: “ We’ll make you eat our smoke clear to 
St. Louis ” ; and then the black smoke began to pour 
out of the smoke-stacks of both the boats, and every- 
body on board knew that the most exciting of sports, a 
steamboat race, was on. 

When the race began Ray and Arthur were standing 
on the hurricane deck, leaning against the railing, with 
their eyes closely watching the Lady Belle. 

“ Do you know,” Arthur said, as the Lady Belle be- 
gan gradually moving ahead, “ these two boats make 
me think of two country fellows, each with his fast 
horse in the buggy and his best girl by his side, coming 
together on a country road. There’s bound to be a race, 
and it’s bound to be a mighty exciting one while it lasts. 
Now, I don’t believe the Queen of the Ohio is going to 
let the Lady Belle steam away from her like this, no 
more than one of them country fellows would let the 
other pass him without whipping up his horse and try- 
ing his level best to show him that his horse is the 
fastest.” 

“ Of course she won’t,” declared Ray positively. 
“ Can’t you see the black smoke pouring out of her 
chimneys ? That means pitch-pine, and pitch-pine means 
that she’s getting up steam in a hurry. I’m sure we’re 
going faster already. See, the Lady Belle isn’t gaining 
on us any longer. Hurrah, we’re gaining on her! We’re 
beating her! Hurrah! ” and both boys, in their excite- 
ment, took off their hats, and swung them around their 

[33] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

heads, and yelled; and nearly everybody else on the 
boat was doing the same thing, for by now the race 
excitement had got into the blood of all. 

The Queen of the Ohio gained steadily until she 
passed the Lady Belle^ and slowly drew ahead until she 
was a good boat-length in the lead ; and then everybody 
shouted tauntingly to everybody on the Lady Belle. A 
deck-hand stood up on the railing in the stern of the 
boat and flapped his arms and crowed like a rooster. 
Somebody advised the Lady Belle to grease her paddle- 
wheels. A man wanted to know if the Lady Belle had 
any messages to send to St. Louis, and volunteered to 
carry them if she had. “ You’ll make us eat your smoke 
clear to St. Louis, will you? ” yelled another. “ Who’s 
eating our smoke now?” “Good-bye, Lady, I must 
leave you,” sang some one, with more enthusiasm than 
music, and everybody yelled and joined in the song, 
and the taunting words rang out far over the water to 
the distant shores. 

But presently it was noticed that the Queen of the 
Ohio did not seem to be gaining any more on the Lady 
Belle. Then the Lady Belle began creeping nearer and 
nearer, inch by inch, until her prow was even with the 
stern of the Queen of the Ohio, and still she gained. 

The excitement now became intense. Men rushed to 
the captain and implored him not to let that “ old 
scow” get ahead, and down to the boiler-deck and 
offered the engineers and firemen large cash rewards 
if they would keep the Queen of the Ohio in the lead. 
The captain walked up and down the “ texas ” deck, 
his face red with excitement, and his teeth biting off 
bits of smoking sulphur for every inch the Lady Belle 
gained. Below the great furnaces flamed and roared, 

[34] 


The Steamboat Race 

and the pent steam hissed and screamed through the 
safety-valves, while the arms of the great engines shot 
swiftly back and forth with an energy that shook the 
boat from stem to stern. On the decks men, women, 
and children crowded together, yelling and hurrahing. 

Only one man in the midst of all this excitement re- 
mained calm. He was the imperturbable pilot, who 
stood in his little glass house, his hands gripping the 
spokes of his wheel, his keen eyes on the river, and his 
face as emotionless as the face of the clock that ticked 
calmly away on the wall above his head. Whatever hap- 
pened he must remain calm, for the fate of that great 
steamboat and every living thing on her depended on 
his keeping his head. There were sunken snags and 
hidden rocks and mud-banks and sand-bars and shoals 
all down on that wonderful map of the river in 
his memory, and all these must be remembered and 
avoided at exactly the right moment, or out there in 
the muddy waters of the swirling Mississippi there 
would be a terrible disaster. No living man knew this 
better than did the pilot himself, and the thought of 
that awful responsibility kept him cool. It was a part 
of his education that he learned when he learned the 
river. 

Still, in spite of everything the pilot, the captain, and 
the crew could do, the Lady Belle continued to gain. 
Inch by inch her prow overhauled the length of the 
Queen of the Ohio, Soon she was abreast — then ahead ! 

Captain Bendy stamped his foot on the deck and 
glared at the Lady Belle, The captain of the Lady 
Belle waved his hand to Captain Bendy and shouted 
good-bye. Captain Bently frowned and shook his fist, 
and then rushed into his cabin and yelled down the 

[35] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

tube : “ Steam ! More steam ! Don’t let that mud-scow 
beat us, if you have to blow the bolts out of the 
boilers ! ” 

“ Can’t make another ounce ! ” the engineer shouted 
back. “ The safety-valves are screaming like white 
devils ! ” 

“ Blast the safety-valves ! ” yelled Captain Bently, 
forgetting discretion in his excitement and rage. “ Tie 
a log on them ! The boilers are good for it. Do you 
think I want every captain on the river laughing at me ? 
Beat the Lady Belle to St. Louis, or I’ll get an engineer 
who can. Beat the Lady Belle! Do you hear? Beat 
her ! ” and Captain Bently rushed back on deck. 

Five minutes later Ray gave a glad shout. “ Look, 
Art, look! We are gaining! We are gaining! Oh, I 
knew we could beat the Lady Belle! Hurrah ! Now, we 
will show them what the Queen of the Ohio can do ! ” 
and the delighted boy fairly danced up and down in 
his excitement. 

The Queen of the Ohio continued to gain; but she 
was evidently doing her utmost. Her frame was all 
a-quiver from gilded figure-head to stern-post. A few 
of the more experienced passengers began to look anx- 
iously in the direction of the captain. The pilot’s face 
whitened a trifle, but he kept his eyes fixed on the river 
ahead and his hands on the spokes of his wheel. On 
and on sped the Queen of the Ohio. Soon she was 
abreast of the Lady Belle — ahead — and each moment 
she was widening the distance between her and her 
rival! Now every man, woman, and child on board 
began to cheer and yell, wildly exulting ; and then 

There came a sudden thunderous crash. The deck 
shot skyward. A shriek, as of one voice, rang out, even 

[36] 


The Steamboat Race 

above the awful roar of the rending boat; and the air 
was filled with struggling human beings and flying 
scraps of iron and broken timbers. 

The boilers of the Queen of the Ohio had blown up ! 

When Ray and Arthur again became conscious of 
their surroundings, they were struggling in the water 
not twenty feet away from the wrecked boat and within 
ten feet of each other. A rain of splintered boards and 
bits of iron was still falling around them, and the sur- 
face of the river was thick with the ruins of the 
wrecked boat. 

Fortunately both boys were unhurt and expert swim- 
mers; and they swam intuitively for a minute or two, 
their minds in a daze, not yet comprehending the aw- 
fulness of the disaster that had so suddenly over- 
whelmed the Queen of the Ohio and all on board of 
her. Something white, with dark curly hair spread out 
on the surface of the water, floated near Ray. He 
stared at it stupidly, wonderingly, for an instant; and 
then, with a shock that brought his wits back on the 
jump, he saw that it was a young girl, buoyed up for 
a few moments on the water by her clothes. The next 
moment his arm was around her, and he was swim- 
ming desperately with his burden toward a floating 
plank. He reached the plank and tried to lift the sense- 
less child upon it, but his strength was not sufficient, 
and he was compelled to cling to the friendly plank 
with one arm, while he held the girl’s head out of the 
water with the other. 

At this moment Arthur caught sight of Ray, and, 
with a cry of joy, started toward him; but just as he 
was about to place his hands on the plank, his feet 
struck against something solid, and the next instant the 

[37] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

body of a woman rose out of the water not two feet 
from his side. With an exclamation of horror Arthur 
seized the woman and pulled her with him to the plank, 
and there he clung, with one arm around the plank 
and the other holding the woman’s head above the 
water. 

A horrible medley of cries came from all around 
them — shrieks and groans and agonising calls for 
help and prayers for mercy and curses; and they saw 
that the surrounding waters were dotted with franti- 
cally struggling human beings. A woman, battling des- 
perately to keep afloat and screaming for help every 
moment her mouth was out of the water, fought for 
her life not a rod from where they were; but the boys 
were powerless to help her. The senseless burdens in 
their arms tied them to the plank. With joy they saw 
a strong swimmer hurrying to her rescue. The swim- 
mer seized the woman, towed her to the plank, and 
told her to hold on to it, that a boat would soon pick 
her up. Then he turned to the two boys, and they saw 
that the swimmer was Tom Rawlins. The blood was 
trickling from a hurt on his head, and his face was 
white with the horror of the awful thing that had hap- 
pened, yet he smiled when he saw Ray and Arthur. 

“ Keep up courage, lads,” he said cheerily, “ and 
hold on to that woman and child. The boats will soon 
be here,” and then he swam swiftly away to help others. 

“Oh, this is terrible! Awful! Look, look at the 
steamboat. Art ! Look ! ” and Ray’s white face became 
even more ghastly. 

Some five rods down the river floated what was 
left of the Queen of the Ohio, Her decks were a mass 
of splintered timbers and twisted irons, with the two 

[38] 


The Steamboat Race 

tall smoke-stacks sticking out of the pile like the legs 
of a huge black giant. Through this mass spouted hiss- 
ing columns of steam, and above hung a white steam- 
cloud. Here and there in this floating mountain of ruins 
struggled human beings; and the stern of the boat, 
which had been little damaged by the explosion, was 
crowded with a frenzied mob of men, women, and chil- 
dren. Even as Ray and Arthur looked black smoke 
began mingling with the white steam, and the next mo- 
ment a red tongue of fire leaped high above this awful 
scene of devastation. 

The Lady Belle^ the moment her officers compre- 
hended what had happened, had swung round, and 
now was rushing back to render all possible aid to the 
survivors. Her boats were lowered and manned and 
hurried to the side of the wrecked steamer as speedily 
as possible; and as fast as human strength and human 
skill could accomplish it, the unfortunate beings on the 
now blazing Queen of the Ohio were carried to the 
safety of the decks of the Lady Belle. Life-preservers 
and ropes were thrown to those struggling in the water ; 
and many a brave man among the passengers and crew 
leaped into the water, and, at the risk of his life, saved 
some unfortunate from going down forever under the 
muddy waters of the Mississippi. 

Ray and Arthur clung desperately, each to his end 
of the plank and to his precious burden. The woman 
Tom Rawlins had rescued was near the middle of the 
plank. Presently the girl on Ray’s arm moved, opened 
her eyes, stared wildly around, threw up both arms, 
and began screaming, “Mother! Mother! Mother!” 
and struggling violently. Ray tried to quiet her, but he 
could not. She was crazed with the fear of the water 

[39] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and the awful situation in which she found herself; and 
in a moment she had freed herself from his arm and 
was being borne away by the current. Ray let go of the 
plank and swam after her; but his clothes were heavy, 
and the boots on his feet felt like lead; and she sank 
just as his hand was about to seize the cloth of her 
dress. Without an instant’s hesitation Ray dove, and 
when he came to the surface the still struggling girl was 
in his arms. In a moment she had dragged him under, 
and both went down. This time when Ray came to the 
top of the water with the girl she lay still; but he was 
now almost completely exhausted, and the plank was 
two or more rods away and getting farther every mo- 
ment. He struck out desperately for it, holding the 
girl’s mouth above the water as best he could; but to 
do his utmost, burdened by the weight of the child, he 
could not gain an inch on the plank, borne along on the 
swift current, and his strength was fast failing. “ Ar- 
thur! Arthur! ” he called; but Arthur was powerless to 
aid him, for if he released the woman he held, she 
would drown at once. “Help! Help!” Ray shouted; 
but the boats were busy elsewhere. “ Help! Help! ” he 
screamed in mortal fear; but he still clung to the girl, 
whose dead weight was dragging him down, down. He 
felt all his strength leaving him, felt himself sinking; 
but even then, as he went down with a last desperate 
effort, he thrust the girl’s head up out of the water. 

At that moment a strong hand shot down through 
the water, and, gripping Ray by the hair of his head, 
jerked him quickly to the surface. 

“ Lie still and hold on to the girl ! ” shouted a voice 
in his ear, and Ray felt himself pulled swiftly through 
the water, and in three minutes more his hands gripped 

[40] 


The Steamboat Race 

the wood of the plank, and he turned and saw that he 
had been saved by Tom Rawlins. 

“ Now just keep a tight hold on that plank, young- 
ster, and rest yourself. I’ll take care of the girl,” and 
Tom Rawlins’s strong arm lifted the still senseless child 
half out of the water and laid her gently across the 
plank. “ Here comes a boat, and we’ll all soon be safe 
on board the Lady Belle. Hi, ho ! have a care there, or 
you’ll capsize this craft!” he called to Arthur, who 
had suddenly found himself struggling with the woman 
he had rescued and who had just come to sufficiently 
to become hysterical with fright. “ Hold on to the 
girl.” This to Ray — and with swift strokes Tom Raw- 
lins swam to the aid of Arthur; and there was need, 
for both by this time were struggling frantically in the 
water away from the safety of the plank. 

“ Get back to the plank,” Rawlins commanded Ar- 
thur the moment he had freed him from the grip of 
the woman. “ You’re pretty near tuckered.” Then 
catching the woman by the hair of her head so that she 
could not get hold of him, he swam with her toward 
the rapidly approaching boat. 

In ten minutes more the five of them were safely on 
board the Lady Belle, where everything possible was 
done for the safety and comfort of the survivors. But 
it had been a dreadful disaster. Captain Bently, the 
pilot, the engineer, two or three of the crew, and a few 
of the passengers were never seen again. They had 
either perished on the burning steamer or sank, never 
to rise again, beneath the waters of the Mississippi. 
Many had been badly hurt; and the cabins of the Lady 
Belle were transformed into an improvised hospital. 
When all had been done at the scene of the catastrophe 

[41] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

that could be done, the Lady Belle hurried to the 
nearest river town, and there left the bodies of the 
dead and the hurt to the friendly care of the horror- 
stricken citizens, and continued on her way up the river 
to St. Louis, taking with her such passengers of the un- 
fortunate Queen of the Ohio as cared to go. 


[42] 


CHAPTER FIVE 


MILDRED 


R ay and Arthur remained on board the Lady 
Belle, 

On the second morning after the disaster, 
as the two boys stood on the deck watching the shores 
and planning what they would do when the boat 
reached St. Louis, Jedidiah Judson came up suddenly be- 
hind them, and laid a hand on the shoulder of each lad. 

“ I want you two boys to come with me,” Jedidiah 
Judson said, as his hand gripped each lad by the shoul- 
der. “ I want you two boys to come with me, now.” His 
face was white and thin, but his eyes were shining. 
“ You’re wanted at once in the ladies’ cabin. There is 
some one there who wants to see you right away,” and 
he started off, pushing the two lads in front of him. 

“What — what is the matter?” stammered Ray. 
“Who — who wants to see us? We don’t know a liv- 
ing soul on this boat.” 

“ Well, there’s some one who wants to know you, 
all right,” Jed Judson answered emphatically. “ So 
come right along, lads.” 

Ray glanced apprehensively at Arthur. “ I’ll bet it’s 
old Thompson,” he whispered. “ He has followed us, 
and now he is going to try and make us go back with 
him.” 


[43] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Well, we won’t go ! ” Arthur answered shortly, 
his jaws coming together with a snap. “ I’d die before 
I’d go back to his old farm to starve. California and 
the gold mines for me.” 

“Me, too!” Ray declared emphatically. “Who 
wants to see us? ” and he turned a bit defiantly to Jed 
Judson. “ Because it might be somebody we didn’t 
want to see,” he ended truthfully if not wisely. 

“ Well, they want to see you mighty bad, so trot 
along lively,” rejoined Jed Judson, his blue eyes 
twinkling. 

At the door of the ladies’ cabin Arthur paused long 
enough to whisper to Ray: “It can’t be old Thomp- 
son. He wouldn’t be waiting for us in the ladies’ cabin. 
Who can it be?” Then Jed Judson pushed the door 
open, and ushered the boys in. 

Near the door sat a white-faced lady and a little 
girl, who, the moment Ray and Arthur entered, jumped 
to their feet and hurried toward them. 

“Here they are!” almost shouted Jed Judson. 
“ Now, just show them how you feel toward the two 
lads who saved your lives at the risk of their own.” 

By this time the woman had hold of both of Arthur’s 
hands, and was trying to thank him in a voice choking 
with sobs, while the tears streamed from her eyes, for 
so heroically saving her at the recent disaster; and, 
when words failed, she threw her motherly arms 
around his neck and, drawing his face close, gave him 
the two most precious things in the world, a mother’s 
kiss and blessing. 

The girl ran straight to Ray. Ray flushed, and 
looked as if he wanted to run; but before the confused 
boy could make up his mind just what to do, the girl 

[44] 


Mildred 

had her arms around his neck, and was squeezing him 
tight and kissing him and thanking him for saving her 
life and crying all at the same time. For a full minute 
Ray was too astounded and dum founded and con- 
founded and embarrassed to make a move, but stood 
with his arms hanging down limply by his side, his face 
as red as hot blood could make it ; and then he tore him- 
self from the girl’s arms and made a break for the 
door — only to run straight into the arms of Mr. Jedi- 
diah Judson, who at once seized his two hands and 
began shaking them so violently that Ray thought sure 
he would jerk them from his shoulders; and then he 
too, began thanking him for saving the life of his 
precious little girl, his darling Mildred. 

“But — but I didn’t save her I Honest and truly I 
didn’t! ” stammered Ray, with as much fervour as if he 
had been accused of committing some heinous crime. 
“ It was Big Tom Rawlins. He saved both of us. We 
were both sinking when he pulled us back to the plank.” 

“ I know, I know. Tom Rawlins has told me all 
about it. How you even tried to hold Mildred’s head 
out of the water when you were sinking, and so I don’t 
care for any explanations from you, young man. Now, 
come over here and let my wife tell you what she 
thinks of you,” and gripping Ray by both shoulders, 
Jedidiah Judson shoved the boy in front of him to 
where Arthur was vainly trying to convince Mrs. Jud- 
son that she really owed her life to Tom Rawlins and 
not to him at all. 

Two hours later the five of them, Mr. and Mrs. 
Judson and Mildred and Ray and Arthur, stood to- 
gether on the deck of the steamer, watching the distant 
city of St. Louis, which the boat was now rapidly 

[45] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

nearing. That long talk in the ladies’ cabin had done 
great things for Ray and Arthur. In the first place it had 
given them three friends, and neither of the two boys 
could remember of ever having had even one friend 
before; and if any of you boys who read this are 
friendless and homeless or ever have been, you will un- 
derstand exactly how much this meant to Ray and Ar- 
thur without another word from me; but if you have 
always had a home and friends, you can never under- 
stand, never, the happiness that now filled Ray and Ar- 
thur, and overflowed through their faces and tongues 
as they stood on the deck with their friends — their 
friends. Then there was another great thing that this 
long talk in the ladies’ cabin had done for Ray and 
Arthur. It had given them friends for companions on 
the long journey across the plains and over the moun- 
tains to the Land of Gold, for Jedidiah Judson and 
his wife and child were also bound for the gold mines, 
and they had insisted that Ray and Arthur should join 
them for “ mutual help and comfort,” as the good 
Mrs. Judson put it; and the boys had willingly agreed 
to do so, providing they would be allowed to pay their 
share of the expenses. 

“ And so we’re to be partners after all,” Mr. Jud- 
son had laughed when everything had been settled to 
the satisfaction of everybody. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad you boys are going with us I ” 
Mildred exclaimed for possibly the thousandth time, 
her plump cheeks dimpling and flushing rosily, as the 
five friends stood together on the deck viewing with 
interest the approaching city. “ And won’t it be great 
fun to travel in a covered waggon and sleep in a tent 
for days and days and days. ’Twill be just like going 
[46] 


Mildred 

on a picnic every day. I like to go to picnics, don’t 
you? ” And then, without pausing an instant for either 
boy to reply, she continued: “ I thought I was going to 
have an awful lonesome time of it, for even a picnic 
would get lonesome if you were the only little girl 
there, wouldn’t it? But now I know I won’t, because 
IVe got you two boys to play with. You’ll be like broth- 
ers to me, won’t you ? I have always wanted a brother. 
They’re so handy when you want anything done,” and 
on and on rattled Mildred’s tongue, while Ray and 
Arthur were content to just look and listen; and well 
they might be, for a fairer, sweeter-looking young girl 
than Mildred Judson could not have been found any- 
where. At least that is what Ray and Arthur thought 
as they watched the most bewitching dimpling smiles 
come and go on her plump, rosy-cheeked face as she 
laughed and shook her dark-brown curls and made 
pretty little gestures with her hands while talking to 
them. 

“ Now, Dimples,” and her father turned and play- 
fully clapped the palm of his hand over her red lips, 
“ supposing you give Ray’s and Arthur’s ears a chance 
to rest, while you go with your mother to our stateroom 
to help pack up. The boat will land in St. Louis in half 
an hour, and we want to be ready to go ashore at 
once. I’ll take care of the boys while you are away. 
But hurry, for we’re going right ashore as soon as 
the boat lands, and if you’re not on hand you’ll get 
left, see?” and he gave a red cheek a mischievous 
pinch. 

“ Don’t you dare. Papa Judson, don’t you dare to 
take one step off this boat without mamma and me. If 
you do. I’ll never speak to you again,” and shaking 

[47] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

her curls and laughing, Mildred ran after her mother, 
who was already on her way to the stateroom. 

The Lady Belle was now rapidly approaching St. 
Louis, and in a short time had reached the long line of 
wharfs that lay abreast of the city. At that date, when 
steamboating on the river was in its prime, the wharfs 
of St. Louis were the noisiest and busiest places in the 
world. Steamboats, two and three tier deep, lay all 
along the river front, discharging and taking on their 
passengers and cargoes. Throngs of men rushed back 
and forth continually; mountains of freight were piled 
everywhere; armies of drays and baggage vans hur- 
ried hither and thither, their drivers shouting and 
cursing; roustabouts sang their loading and unloading 
songs; mates and officers shouted orders and swore flu- 
ently; windlasses, lowering freight into the holds, 
creaked and whizzed and whirred; bells and gongs 
clanged; steam from exhaust pipes hissed; and hither 
and thither among all this noise and confusion dodged 
the passengers, going and coming from the boats, their 
arms and hands laden with packages and bundles and 
babies, and with frightened, crying children clinging 
close to dresses and hands. Such was the river front 
of St. Louis in the good old steamboat days, now 
already a part of our country’s wonderful history; and 
it was into such a scene of distracting noises and con- 
fusion that the good steamboat the Lady Belle pushed 
her prow on the morning when Ray and Arthur and 
their new-found friends stood on her deck waiting to 
disembark. 

“ Mercy ! What a racket ! ” exclaimed Mildred, 
clapping her two hands over her ears and laughing, 
while her eyes danced with excitement. “ How can v/e 
[48] 


Mildred 

ever get ashore? and how will we know what to do 
with ourselves when we do get there? If my papa 
wasn’t here I’d be too afraid to move; but papa knows 
how to do everything, and he isn’t afraid to go any- 
where. I am so glad that you have got my papa to help 
you now” and you needn’t be the least bit frightened. 
He’ll ’tend to everything,” and the little maid looked 
up reassuringly into the faces of Ray and Arthur. 

By this time the Lady Belle had reached her moor- 
ing; and our friends hurried ashore, Mildred clinging 
to one of her father’s arms, while his wife hung to the 
other, and the amazed boys followed close behind. 

It had been decided to spend four days in St. Louis, 
in order to buy here as much of the outfit needed for 
the long journey across the plains as possible, where 
things were cheaper than they would be in Independ- 
ence, the last outpost of mercantile civilisation on the 
trail to California, until Salt Lake City was reached. 
Nearly everything that Mr. Judson had brought with 
him from the East had been destroyed when the Queen 
of the Ohio was lost; and consequently he was obliged 
to completely re-outfit himself. Ray and Arthur had 
nothing but the clothes on their backs ; and their outfits, 
too, must be purchased. They had little idea of what 
they would need, but fortunately they found a wise 
and experienced adviser in Jedidiah Judson, who in 
his earlier manhood had been a hunter on these very 
plains, and had accompanied more than one waggon 
train to Santa Fe; and, with his help, before they left 
the city of St. Louis, a goodly part of their money had 
been wisely and economically invested in necessary 
food, arms, and clothing for the long journey overland 
to California. 


[49] 


CHAPTER SIX 


EAGLE FEATHER 

E arly on the morning of the fifth day after 
the arrival of our friends in St. Louis, Ray 
and Arthur entered the waiting room of the 
hotel where they were stopping, and glanced eagerly 
around. Almost at the same moment a door near the 
other end of the room opened, and Jedidiah Judson 
walked in. 

“Hello, thought I’d beat you boys, sure!” he 
greeted them cheerily; “ but I see you’re about one jerk 
of a lamb’s tail ahead of me. Got everything packed 
and ready? The boat leaves In one hour, and we’ll go 
right on board as soon as Dimples and her mother come 
down. Women folks are slow. Takes one woman 
longer to dress than it would forty men.” 

“ We’re all ready,” responded Arthur, glancing at 
the neatly packed bundles that lay at their feet, “ and 
anxious to get off just as soon as we can. How long will 
it take the boat to get to Independence? ” 

“ About six or seven days,” Mr. Judson answered. 
“ You see. It’s up-stream, and the boat’s got to fight 
against the current all the way, and the current of the 
Missouri River’s a mighty hard proposition to buck 
against at this time of the year — HI, ho 1 Here comes 
the delinquents, and loaded down like two burros!” 

[50] 


Eagle Feather 

he cried, as Mrs. Judson and Mildred entered the 
room, burdened with bundles and packages. “ Reckon 
you’ll have to give a helping hand, boys.” 

But Ray and Arthur were already on their way to 
relieve Mildred and her mother of as many of their 
bundles as they could possibly carry in addition to 
their own; and when this had been done, with much 
joking and laughing, all set out to board the steam- 
boat that was to bear them to Independence, and 
which was tied to her wharf only a short distance 
away. 

The boat was jammed with human beings and mer- 
chandise bound for the far gold mines of California. 
To the inexperienced eyes of Ray and Arthur it seemed 
as if everybody from everywhere had started for Cali- 
fornia, and the two boys began to have grave fears 
that there would not be gold enough to go around when 
all got there. Nearly all of the available space of the 
boiler-deck was covered with the waggons and equip- 
ments of the California emigrants. The greater number 
of the waggons were of that huge variety known as 
prairie-schooners, from a fancied resemblance of their 
great bellying canvas tops to the sails of a schooner; 
and when heavily loaded, these unwieldy vehicles re- 
quired several teams of horses or yokes of oxen to draw 
them. One of the largest of these waggons was the 
property of Jedidiah Judson; and under its capacious 
cover was snugly stowed away the goods purchased by 
Jed and the two boys in St. Louis. 

“Where is our waggon?” Mildred asked eagerly 
the moment her feet were safely on the deck. “ I want 
to go to it right off. I want to see what it looks like, my 
new home on wheels,” and she laughed while her 

[51] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

cheeks dimpled and her eyes sparkled with excite- 
ment. 

“That’s it!” and Ray pointed eagerly to a large 
prairie-schooner that stood well in front of a dozen 
or more other waggons. “Isn’t it a beauty? And it’s 
extra strong; and we’ve got a tent stowed away inside 
that we can use whenever we wish to; and — ” But Mil- 
dred was already half-way to the waggon, darting here 
and there among the hurrying men and the piles of mer- 
chandise;. and Ray found that he had more need of his 
legs than he had of his tongue if he would keep by 
the side of the lively girl. 

“Oh, it is a beauty! ” and Mildred paused directly 
in front of it and surveyed with delighted eyes the wag- 
gon in all its glory of fresh paint and snowy canvas. 
“ And won’t it be fun to live in it, to ride in it, and 
sleep in it! Now, I must see what it looks like inside,” 
and she started to climb up in the front end of the wag- 
gon, but Ray and Arthur both caught hold of her, one 
of each arm. 

“ Look, look here first! See what’s here first! ” Ar- 
thur cried excitedly, pulling her to one side of the 
waggon. 

“ See, there ! That’s the name of our prairie- 
schooner ! ” and Ray pointed triumphantly to the side 
of the waggon-box, whereon was emblazoned, in beau- 
tifully formed and decorated letters, the name the boys 
themselves had chosen for their waggon. 

“ Oh ! ” and Mildred’s cheeks flushed and dimpled 
with pleasure. “ Why, it’s my name! It’s Mildred! You 
have named the waggon after me ! ” 

“ And it’s on the other side, too,” Arthur informed 
her joyously. “ Come and see.” And Mildred had to 

c 52 ] 


Eagle Feather 

go around to the other side of the waggon and have a 
look at the name from that point of view. 

“ Now,” and Arthur jumped upon the waggon- 
tongue, “ we’ll see what our house looks like inside. 
Right this way, up the grand stairway and through the 
great round door,” and he stepped from the tongue to 
the waggon-box, and from the waggon-box to the foot- 
rest at the top of the box, and from there to the driver’s 
seat just within the cover of the waggon. Mildred and 
Ray were close behind him. 

“ Why, it’s like a big, round, white cave ! ” Mildred 
exclaimed. “But where are we going to sleep?” 

“ I’ll show you,” and Arthur stepped to the middle 
of the waggon, gave a quick pull on two strings, and 
a heavy curtain fell from the top of the cover to the 
bottom of the waggon-box, instantly dividing the 
“ White Cave,” as Mildred called it, into two parts. 
“ Here’s your bedroom,” and Arthur raised the curtain 
and held it up until Mildred and Ray had entered. 
“ Now I’ll show you your beds. This,” and Arthur 
laid his hand on a pretty little folding cot which hung 
on one side of the little room, “ is your bed, Mildred, 
and here is your mother’s,” and he touched a larger 
folding cot fastened to the other side of the room; 
“ and you can sleep in them almost as comfortably as 
you could in your own beds at home. You see the wag- 
gon-box is extra wide, jutting out over the wheels for a 
foot and a half on each side, and this gives you plenty 
of room to place your beds crosswise.” 

“ But where are you and papa going to sleep? ” Mil- 
dred asked. “ I can see only two cots.” 

“ Why, we don’t need cots,” Ray laughed. “We are 
men; and we can just roll ourselves up in our blankets 

[53] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and sleep any old place — on the ground, or in the tent,” 
and Ray and Arthur both tried to look as big and as 
manly as possible. 

“ I don’t want to sleep in a cot either,” and Mildred 
looked with disapproval on her pretty little bed. “ I 
just want to roll myself up in my blanket and sleep any 
old place, too — if — if my papa sleeps there, too,” she 
added a bit hastily. 

“ Good for you. Dimples. Just keep under the wing 
of your old dad, and you will he all right,” and with a 
laugh Mr. Judson held up the Curtain while Mrs. Jud- 
son entered the little room. 

Then, for an hour or more, all the wonders of this 
wonderful waggon were exhibited and commented on, 
from Mildred’s and her mother’s private locker under 
the comfortably cushioned spring seat in the back end 
of the waggon, with its two little glass-covered open- 
ings in the canvas waggon-cover at each end of the seat, 
through which the occupants of the seat could see what- 
ever was going on without, to the sides and top of the 
“ White Cave,” with their innumerable hooks and 
folding shelves and other conveniences designed es- 
pecially for the comfort of Mildred and her mother; 
and everything was heartily approved and declared to 
be exactly what was needed. 

“ Why! ” Mrs. Judson exclaimed, as she seated her- 
self on the spring seat, “ I had no idea you could make 
such a pleasant and comfortable home out of a waggon. 
I thought I would have to rough it when we got out 
on the plains, but this don’t look much like roughing it, 
does It?” and she glanced smilingly around the really 
cosey-looking canvas-roofed little room. Alas! if she 
only could have looked into the future at that moment 

[54] 


Eagle Feather 

she would have seen a sufficient amount of “ roughing 
it ” to have appalled even her stout heart. 

When they climbed out of the waggon the steamer 
was well on its way up the Missouri, and St. Louis was 
already out of sight. Mr. and Mrs. Judson went at once 
to their cabin, but Mildred and the boys were far too 
curious to care to go inside and stayed outside “ to see 
things,” as Ray expressed it. 

The boat was loaded until its guards were almost on 
a level with the water. The upper deck was reserved 
almost entirely for the use of the passengers, but the 
lower deck was crowded with the waggons and goods 
and, in some cases, even the horses and the oxen of the 
gold-seekers, while the hold was jammed full of every 
sort of merchandise needed in that far western country. 

Nearly every passenger on board was bound for 
California, that wonderful land of golden hopes, where 
fortunes that would last a lifetime could be found in 
a day. There were young men and old men, single 
men and whole families, poor men and rich men, ig- 
norant men and cultured men, honest men and rogues, 
all dreaming golden dreams, and all, because of these 
golden dreams, setting their faces bravely toward the 
unknown hardships and perils of a long journey across 
great plains and over high mountains, uninhabited 
saved by roving bands of savage and hostile Indians. 
They came, seemingly, from every walk and condition 
in life. Farmers, merchants, lawyers, doctors, mechan- 
ics, gamblers, thieves — the best and the worst of hu- 
manity — all were represented there. It was one of the 
first of those marvellous gold-fever waves that swept 
over the country — almost over the world — emptying 
stores, shops, farms, and, in some instances, pulpits; 

[55] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and filling the wild mountains of California with the 
most heterogeneous mass of humanity ever before 
gathered in one place in the history of the world. 

Mingling among these peoples from the more set- 
tled portions of the country were a number of hunters, 
trappers, “ mountain men,” and a small band of In- 
dians, who had been on a visit to St. Louis. These 
“ Lords of the Soil ” trod the deck with a conscious air 
of freedom and independence, and looked with long- 
ing eyes toward the shores, as if they were already wea- 
ried of even the few restraints of the rough civilisation 
with which they were surrounded. Quite naturally it 
was the Indians that aroused the greatest interest in 
Mildred and the boys. 

“ That tall Indian with the eagle feathers in his hair 
must be a chief,” Arthur whispered to Ray and Mil- 
dred, as they stood a few feet away watching the In- 
dians with interested eyes; “and he’s the best-looking 
Indian I ever saw, so tall and straight, and he don’t 
look ugly and cruel.” 

“ Wall, didn’t you three kids ever see a real live In- 
jun afore?” inquired a deep rough voice so close be- 
hind the children that all three jumped and turned 
quickly around and stared in surprise and not a little 
fear at the great shaggy-bearded man, dressed in the 
rough garb of a hunter, who had spoken to them, and 
who now stood with his legs set wide apart looking 
down at them out of a pair of bloodshot eyes set in a 
red, brutal-looking face. Even the inexperienced eyes 
of the children could see that the man had been drink- 
ing too much whisky and was in an ugly temper. 

“If you knowed Injuns as well as I do,” continued 
the hunter, the ugly look on his face deepening, “ th’ 

[56] 


Eagle Feather 

less you seen of them th’ better you’d like it. They’re 
worser than ’phoby cats an’ pisen snakes. The only 
good Injun I ever seed was a dead Injun. Now, that 
particular rattlesnake there,” and he pointed a finger 
directly at the tall chief, “ would sooner lift th’ hair 
off that gal’s head than eat dog meat, which is pie in 
Injun.” 

Mildred shivered and caught hold of Ray’s arm. 

“ Scart, be you?” and the man laughed loudly. 
Then a new idea came into his drunken head. “ Want to 
see that Injun dance? ’Course you do,” and without 
waiting for an answer, he strode up to the tall Indian 
chief. “ Here, you red son of a thousand devils, get up 
an’ shake them lazy bones of yourn. Give us a war- 
dance, an’ give it quick, or I’ll knock your nose through 
th’ back of your head,” and he shook a huge red fist, 
nearly as big as a ham, in front of the chief’s face. 

The tall form of the Indian stiffened, and his lips 
tightened across his teeth, and he stared straight into 
the bleered eyes of the burly hunter for a second; and 
then, with a gesture of utter contempt, he calmly folded 
his arms on his bosom and turned his back squarely to 
the hunter. 

For an instant the drunken bully stared blankly at 
the back of the Indian’s head; and then, as the signifi- 
cance of the chief’s action burst on his muddled facul- 
ties, his face went red, and with a fearful oath he 
swung back his right leg and gave the Indian a terrific 
kick with his heavy boot. The hunter was almost a 
giant in size, and exceedingly muscular, and the chief 
was lifted off his feet as if he had been struck by a bat- 
tering ram, and hurled against the deck railing with so 
much force that the railing broke, and the Indian 
[ 57 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

plunged headlong over into the muddy waters of the 
Missouri. 

Mildred screamed, and a cry of horror went up from 
many lips, for all saw that the Indian had struck his 
head against the railing and was insensible when he 
went overboard. 

“ He’ll drown! He’s hurt! ” shouted Ray, and jerk- 
ing off his coat, he rushed to the side of the boat and 
leaped after the Indian; and not a half a second behind 
him plunged Arthur. 

The current of the Missouri is very swift and its 
water opaque with mud; and when Ray and Arthur 
came to the surface after their plunge, they were al- 
ready a rod or more from the steamboat, and the In- 
dian chief was nowhere in sight. He had sunk like a 
log the moment he struck the water; but, unlike a log, 
he had not risen at once to the surface, and it was im- 
possible for the boys to see a foot into the muddy 
water. For a minute they swam about desperately, 
straining their eyes for a glimpse of the drowning man; 
and then both boys caught sight of the body of the 
Indian floating helplessly in the water about a rod far- 
ther down the river. At the same moment a shout from 
the steamer, which had stopped and was lowering a 
boat, told them that help was coming speedily. In a 
minute the boys had hold of the Indian, and were sup- 
porting his head above the water, and in five minutes 
more the insensible chief and his two rescuers were 
lifted out of the water into the boat and hurried to the 
deck of the steamer, where Ray and Arthur, to their 
very evident embarrassment, found themselves the 
heroes of the moment. 

“ Good thing for that Indian that you boys know 

[S8] 


Eagle Feather 

how to swim, and have got sense enough to act at 
once,” Mr. Judson said, slapping both boys heartily on 
the shoulders. “ That’s the great thing — to know what 
to do and to do it at once. Now, skedaddle for the wag- 
gon, and get into some dry clothes — Oh, they’re all 
right. Sound as a dollar, and not a picayune the worse 
for their wetting.” This to Mildred, who had come 
running up, her face white and wet with tears, just as 
the boys hurried away to the waggon. “ Now, let’s see 
how our Indian friend is coming on,” and taking Mil- 
dred by the hand, he hastened to where a crowd had 
gathered around the insensible chief. 

Fortunately the Indian chief had swallowed but lit- 
tle water, and was soon restored to consciousness. The 
hurt on his head, while it had deprived him of his 
senses for a short time, was not at all serious, and a 
couple of days would find him a sound Indian again. 

By the time Ray and Arthur returned in their dry 
clothes the chief was sitting up, and had heard the story 
of his rescue with seeming indifference; but the moment 
his eyes caught sight of the two boys, his stolid face 
lighted up, and he motioned them to approach, rising 
to his feet to receive them with that native dignity that 
seems to be a natural inheritance of all these kings of 
the plains and forests. For a full two minutes after Ray 
and Arthur stood in front of him, the Indian’s piercing 
black eyes studied their forms and features intently, as 
if he were trying to print their photographs indelibly 
on his memory; then he took Ray’s right hand and 
placed it over his heart. “ Leaping Beaver brave,” he 
said, giving Ray a name suggested by his late exploit, 
after the manner of Indians. “ Eagle Feather drown. 
Leaping Beaver no save. Eagle Feather chief, he no 

[59] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

forget. Eagle Feather brother Leaping Beaver. Leap- 
ing Beaver need Eagle Feather, send. Eagle Feather 
come.” Again the chief stood silent and looked intently 
into Ray’s face for a moment; then releasing Ray’s 
hand, he turned to Arthur, and placing the boy’s right 
palm over his heart, went through exactly the same for- 
mula he had with Ray, giving Arthur the name of 
White Otter. 

Only the quiet dignity and absolute unaffectedness 
and sincerity of the chief saved this scene from appear- 
ing theatrical. The deck was crowded with interested 
onlookers, but Eagle Feather took no notice of their 
presence, and proceeded to show his gratitude exactly 
as he would have done had he been alone on his native 
plains with the two boys. 

“ Oh, that was nothing,” Ray answered the moment 
the chief dropped Arthur’s hand. “We have jumped 
into the water from a higher point than that lots of 
times just for fun, haven’t we. Art? ” 

“ Of course we have,” responded Arthur, as if the 
height of the dive had been the main thing. “ That 
wasn’t much of a dive. Why, the bridge across the 
North Creek must be a good ten feet higher, and we’ve 
dove from there hundreds of times. Of course we’re 
glad we got to you in time to keep your mouth out of 
the water until the boat came ; but that wasn’t anything. 
Any good swimmer could have done that; and you were 
hurt. Where’s that big man that kicked you over- 
board?” and Arthur’s face flushed and his eyes 
sparkled Indignantly as he glanced over the crowd sur- 
rounding them. “ I’d like to tell him what a brute I 
think him.” 

“ Eagle Feather no forget white hunter.” The eyes 
[6o] 


Eagle Feather 

of the chief flamed and his right hand clenched itself 
so tightly that the knuckles showed white as he spoke, 
and he glanced swiftly around at the surrounding 
faces, but the red, brutal face of the hunter was not 
within sight. 

Two or three of the hunter’s companions had got 
hold of him the moment after he had kicked the In- 
dian, and during the confusion attending the chief’s 
rescue, had managed to get him away into a secluded 
corner of the boat, where they plied him with “drinks” 
so successfully that he was soon sprawled out on the 
floor in the stupor of a drunken sleep. This, under the 
circumstances, was considered the safest thing to do; 
for Grizzly Ike, the hunter, when in liquor, was as ugly 
and as ferocious and about as dangerous as his savage 
namesake, and drunk or sober, feared neither man, 
God, nor devil. He belonged to that hardy, reckless, 
fearless class of men, who spent the greater part of 
their lives hunting and trapping through the vast wil- 
dernesses and rocky fastnesses of the then unexplored 
mountains and plains of the great West, his only pro- 
tector his rifle, his only friends and comrades his pack- 
horses, and his most implacable and deadly enemy the 
ever cruel and crafty Indian, against whose virulent 
enmity he was compelled to guard himself night and 
day. 

This manner of life bred a fierce independence of 
spirit that often degenerated into brutality and cruelty, 
as in the case of Grizzly Ike; but by far the greater 
number of these trappers and hunters were men of an 
heroic type, whose courage, fortitude, and perseverance 
are unequalled in the annals of any nation; and to 
whom we, who are reaping where they sowed, owe 
[6i] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

more than words can tell. They were the real explorers, 
the pathfinders, the pioneers of our great West; and 
when the history of that West is adequately written 
that is the place these men will occupy on its pages. 

While the interesting scene just described had been 
passing between Ray and Arthur and the Indian chief, 
Mildred had been gradually drawing nearer and nearer 
to where they stood, pulling her smiling father along 
after her by his hand, and keeping her eyes fixed on the 
face of the Indian, ready to spring away at the first 
sign of hostility on his part. She now stood within hand- 
reach of Ray, her face dimpling and smiling and her 
eyes sparkling with excitement and interest; for this 
was the first time that she had ever stood so near to 
a real live Indian chief, and it was an important mo- 
ment in her young life. 

Eagle Feather saw her, and his stern face relaxed 
into a smile as his eyes rested on her dimpling cheeks. 
“ How do, white papoose, with face like water danc- 
ing in sun — Smiling Waters,” and he extended his 
hand for Mildred to shake. 

Mildred glanced up at her father, who nodded, 
looked up into the chief’s smiling face, and without a 
moment’s more hesitation, took his hand; and all her 
fear of the dread Indian chief vanished with that hand- 
shake, and she began talking to him with the innocence 
and freedom that makes childhood so charming. 

That night when Ray and Arthur entered the wag- 
gon to go to bed, for they slept beneath its white cover 
while the waggon’ was on the boat to protect its con- 
tents from possible robbers during the hours of dark- 
ness, they had much to talk over all by themselves. It 
had been a great day for them. They had saved the life 
[62] 


Eagle Feather 

of a great Indian chief, had been made his brothers, 
and with Mildred by their sides, had sat for hours lis- 
tening while their red brother and his comrades had 
told them, in their broken English, wild tales of Indian 
life. Now, all boys will understand that all this could 
not happen to two boys in one day without giving them 
a vast deal to talk over the very first time they got by 
themselves; and all boys I am sure will commend the 
author for leaving them undisturbed under the white 
cover of the waggon to chat about these exciting events 
in that intimate, chummy way so dear to every boy, 
until sleep finally closed their eyes and silenced their 
tongues. 


[63] 


CHAPTER SEVEN 


THE DISCOMFITURE OF GRIZZLY IKE 

T he next morning Ray and Arthur were stand- 
ing on the hurricane deck of the steamboat 
watching the shores slipping slowly by, when 
they were greeted from behind by a voice, a queer, gruff 
voice that sounded like a woman or girl trying to talk 
with her mouth full of chestnut burs. 

“ How do. Leaping Beaver. How do. White Otter,” 
the queer voice said. 

Ray and Arthur whirled around and saw Mildred 
attempting to regard them with the stern gravity of an 
Indian, but she was not succeeding very well, for her 
eyes were dancing and her cheeks were beginning to 
dimple. 

“ How do. Smiling Waters,” gravely responded Ray 
and Arthur in the same breath. “ Heap fine morning, 
white papoose, with face like water dancing in the sun,” 
added Arthur, and then the three children broke into 
merry laughter, which was speedily checked by Ray 
suddenly exclaiming: “ Look over there by that clump 
of trees! See, it’s an emigrant train camped out, and 
they’re just getting ready to break camp. My but it 
must be fun to live like that 1 ” 

“ Look, look, there are women and children! ” cried 
Mildred. “ Won’t it be romantic and jolly to live like 

[64] 


/ 


The Discomfiture of Grizzly Ike 

that? and sleep in a tent or waggon? and cook over a 
camp-lire? and travel on and on and on over the beau- 
tiful prairies and great plains? ’Twill be like going on 
a picnic every day. Oh, see, they’re shouting and wav- 
ing their hats and handkerchiefs to us! ” 

“Let’s give them a cheer — a California cheer!” 
exclaimed Arthur, grabbing off his hat and waving it 
around his head. “ Hurrah, hurrah for the gold mines 
of California! Hip — hip — Hurrah! Hurrah! Hur- 
rah! ” From the sound it seemed as if everybody on 
board had joined in the cheering; but clear and distinct 
above all rose the voices of the children, vibrant with 
the joy and the enthusiasm pf youth. 

This was the first emigrant train that Mildred and 
the boys had seen; and in the bright warm light of the 
early morning the little camp of tents and covered 
waggons crowning a little hill on the banks of the 
river, with a little grove of trees on one side and the 
seemingly boundless green of the prairie on the other, 
the men, women, and children hurrying hither and 
thither, fastening the oxen and the horses to the wag- 
gons, taking down the tents, and preparing to begin the 
day’s journey, presented a rarely picturesque and ro- 
mantic scene of bustling activity that appealed strongly 
to the vivid imaginations of the three children. They 
stood and watched the little band of emigrants as long 
as they could see a waving hat or handkerchief, and 
when the last white-topped waggon had vanished and 
they turned away, Mildred said, with just a touch of 
sadness in her voice : “ Why, I almost feel as if I had 
been waving good-byes to friends.” During the re- 
mainder of the journey to Independence they often saw 
the waggons of the emigrants sometimes camped on the 

[65] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

banks of the river, but more often moving in a long line 
slowly over the great prairies, and always headed west- 
ward toward the golden Eldorado; and with the sight 
of each fresh contingent of emigrants their longing in- 
creased for the time to come when their waggon would 
be numbered among the long line of waggons stretch- 
ing out like a thin white ribbon across the great plains 
and over the mountains to the far-off gold mines of 
California. 

“ I want to see Eagle Feather,” Mildred said 
shortly after the camp of the emigrants had passed 
from view, “ and find out how he is feeling this morn- 
ing. I am sure his head must hurt awful. It had a lump 
on it as big as an egg where it hit the railing when 
that — Sh-h-h! there he comes now!” and Mildred 
pointed excitedly to where the bulky form of Grizzly 
Ike came in sight at the other end of the deck, and 
strode toward them, accompanied by a couple of his 
friends. “ I hate him 1 ” and Mildred’s eyes flashed 
wrathfully. “ He ought to be put in jail for hurting 
Eagle Feather just because he’s an Indian. I shan’t 
run, even if I am afraid of him,” and Mildred threw 
back her head and straightened up her plump body, and 
looked defiantly toward the approaching hunters. 

“ My, but he is a whopper I ” Ray exclaimed. “ He 
must be even bigger than Tom Rawlins, and he’s as 
ugly looking as sin. Wonder if he’ll remember us? ” 

The appearance of Grizzly Ike certainly justified 
the comments of Ray. He was an enormous man, nearly 
six feet and a half tall, with a round, bullet-like head 
set on a bull-like neck and shoulders, whose great 
breadth and massive depth of chest gave abundant 
tokens of those tremendous physical powers that had 
[ 66 ] 


The Discomfiture of Grizzly Ike 

won for him the name of Grizzly Ike. His hair and 
beard evidently had long been unacquainted with comb 
or scissors; and his red face, with its retreating fore- 
head, thick lips, projecting chin, and small eyes, had 
more of the craftiness and brutality of a cunning animal 
in it than it did of the kindliness and chivalry of true 
manhood. His coat and trousers were of tanned deer- 
skin, with heavy fringes hanging from their seams, a 
broad belt, which held a long knife and a heavy pistol, 
circled his waist, his powder-flask and bullet-pouch 
hung under his arm, and he carried his long, heavy- 
barrelled rifle in his right hand. He was what was 
known as a “ mountain man,” a wild and fearless class 
of hunters who loaded up a pack-horse or two with 
supplies, mounted their horses, and wandered, often for 
months and frequently absolutely alone, through the 
deep recesses of the wild and unexplored fastnesses 
of the mountains, in pursuit of the fur-bearing ani- 
mals whose valuable skins furnished them with the 
means of procuring the few things they asked of civili- 
sation. 

No wonder that to the eyes of Ray the huge, un- 
couth man who was approaching looked as “ ugly as 
sin,” and that Mildred feared and hated him. 

Grizzly Ike paused in front of Mildred and the 
boys. 

‘‘ How do,” he said gruffly. “ Fine mornin’. Whar’s 
yer Injun friends? I heered how you pulled that snake 
out of th’ river. I likes pluck, an’ you was plucky; but 
you did a fool thing when you saved th’ Big Muddy 
th’ trouble of swallowin’ that vermin. When you comes 
to know Injuns better you’ll feel ’bout as friendly to 
them as to rattlesnakes an’ ’phoby cats. They hain’t 

[67] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

humans, an’ they hain’t animals, an’ if hell’s got any 
bigger devils then I don’t want to go thar. I’ve knowed 
Injuns since I was knee high to a hop toad — lived with 
’em, fit ’em, killed ’em, an’ been nigh killed by ’em — 
an’ I knows what I’m talkin’, an’ when I says th’ only 
good Injun is a dead Injun I means it hard an’ 
straight. I ” 

But Mildred had been growing angrier every mo- 
ment the man was uttering this diatribe, and now came 
the explosion of her pent-up wrath. 

“ I think you are the meanest, wickedest, ugliest, 
hatefulest, cruelest, awfulest man I ever saw,” she 
cried, her cheeks white but her eyes aflame; “ and you 
ought to be put in jail and fed on bread and water ever 
and ever so long for hurting Eagle Feather, just ’cause 
he is an Indian. If I were a man as big and strong as 
you are, I’d be ashamed to do such a mean, cruel, 
wicked, cowardly, brutal thing,” and she took a step 
toward Grizzly Ike, and stamped her little foot vio- 
lently on the deck. 

Grizzly Ike stared at Mildred in blank astonish- 
ment. He knew about as much about girls as he did 
about angels; and to have one of them stand up in 
front of him and give him a tongue lashing that would 
have meant sudden death to any man that uttered it 
was so preposterously astounding that the man was 
actually frightened; and when Mildred took a step 
toward him and stamped her little foot, he jumped 
back, and continued to back off, his eyes fixed on the 
angry girl’s face and his mouth agape, until he had 
’ placed the length of the deck between him and her, 
where he stopped and stood, still blankly staring at the 
girl, hardly larger than one of his great fists, who had 


[ 68 ] 


The Discomfiture of Grizzly Ike 

dared to brave the wrath of Grizzly Ike, the terror of 
the Rocky Mountains. 

“Bully for you, Dimples! That was great!” and 
Jedidiah Judson stepped out from behind a near-by 
pile of goods, where he had heard and witnessed the 
whole scene between Grizzly Ike and Mildred. “ Don’t 
believe there’s a man west, or east, for that matter, of 
the Big Muddy that would have dared say them words 
to Grizzly Ike, unless he was wanting to commit sud- 
den suicide mighty bad. Great Scott! I never saw any- 
body look so astounded and dumfounded as Grizzly 
Ike did when you braced up to him and began firing 
away. It was great! — Hi ho ! What now? ” 

Mildred for a minute had stood glaring after Griz- 
zly Ike, and then suddenly burst into tears and threw 
herself into her father’s arms. 

“ Women are queer,” explained Mr. Judson, as he 
comforted Mildred, “blamed queer. They’ll do a brave 
thing that would scare the teeth right out of a man’s 
mouth, and then when it’s all over and there’s no need 
to be scared any longer, they’ll throw a faint, or turn 
loose a cyclone of sobs and tears, or something, just to 
show that they are women, I reckon.” 

Ray and Arthur joined heartily in the comforting 
process, and Mildred was soon her merry laughing self 
again, and started off with the boys for the lower deck 
where the Indians were encamped. 

Grizzly Ike, during the remainder of the steamboat 
journey, shunned the children; but they often saw him 
standing at a distance and regarding Mildred with a 
look of mingled awe and wonder on his face. If they 
moved toward him he vanished. Evidently Mildred 
had so completely vanquished him in that famous 

[69] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

encounter on the deck that he did not have enough cour- 
age left to venture another contest, and was satisfied to 
keep his distance, and the children were satisfied to let 
him. 

Eagle Feather and his braves received Mildred and 
the boys with broad smiles of welcome, and at once 
made a place for them in the little circle where they sat 
on their blankets. 

Ray and Arthur and Mildred were very anxious to 
learn all they could concerning Indians, for, as Ray 
said, “ It might come in handy sometime when they 
were out on the plains to know things about Indians 
and so they never tired of asking Eagle Feather and 
his companions questions, and of listening to their re- 
plies and to the stories they told of the wild life lived 
by the red men. 

Eagle Feather and his warriors belonged to the 
Delaware tribe of Indians, once the peaceful allies of 
William Penn, but now the most adventurous and 
dreaded Indians of the Western plains and mountains. 
Their little war-parties roamed in search of plunder 
or vengeance as far west as the Rocky Mountains, and 
south their war-whoop was heard and feared far into 
the territories of Mexico. Eagle Feather was as proud 
of his nation, of his ancestors, as ever was Roman gen- 
eral of the great deeds of Rome; and once the hard 
wall of his natural reserve overthrown, he gloried in 
relating to Mildred and the boys the stories and leg- 
ends of the great men of his tribe, and in telling them 
of their customs and religion handed down through un- 
known generations. He and his companions had been 
to St. Louis on a short visit, where they had seen the 
“ sights,” and now were anxious to get back to their 

[70] 


The Discomfiture of Grizzly Ike 

native plains, away from the “ heap big lodges ” of the 
white men, where they could breathe the free air of 
the great prairies. 

During the remainder of the voyage up the river 
Mildred and the boys passed many pleasant hours in 
the company of their red friends ; and, when at last the 
boat tied up at Independence Landing early on the 
morning of the seventh day from St. Louis, they bade 
farewell to Eagle Feather and his braves with real sor- 
row and with many wishes that they might meet again. 
Alas, it was well that none of them could foresee under 
what dramatic circumstances of deadly peril that meet- 
ing, so ardently longed for, was to take place I 

Eagle Feather, before saying his good-byes, gave 
Mildred a beautiful pair of beaded moccasins, and 
hung around the neck of each of the boys a small eagle, 
the totem of his family, rudely carved out of red pipe- 
stone, and fastened to a stout thong of buckskin by a 
hole through its centre. He cautioned the boys never to 
part with the totem ; told them that it would bring them 
good luck so long as they wore it, and that every Dela- 
ware Indian was sworn to protect its wearer. He then 
gravely shook hands with all, again calling Ray and 
Arthur his brothers, and followed by his braves in sin- 
gle file, stalked slowly away toward the West, and 
passed from the sight of the little group of white, who 
stood on the shore of the river watching his departure, 
without one backward glance. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


“ STOP, THIEF, STOP I ” 

I F you look on your maps you can still find the little 
town of Independence, situated not far from the 
western boundary of Missouri, near where the 
Missouri River makes a northward turn, and within a 
few miles of its giant sister, Kansas City. It is now a 
quiet, unimportant town, great only in its history; but 
at the time of which I write it was one of the busiest 
and most important places on our Western frontier, 
the rendezvous of the thousands of emigrants bound 
for the gold mines of California and the forests of 
Oregon, of Santa Fe traders, and of trappers, hunters, 
traders, and Indians from all parts of the West. Here 
the waggon-trains procured their final supplies, and 
here the emigrants had their last look at civilised life 
for many weary weeks. In the picturesque language of 
the time it was the “ jumping-off place,” the Ultima 
Thule of civilisation. Not again until the Mormon city 
on Great Salt Lake was reached would the California 
emigrant see a house, or a cultivated field, or any other 
sign of civilised human life, except at one or two lonely 
frontier forts, after the last rough dwelling-place in 
Independence had passed from sight; and Salt Lake 
City was nearly fifteen hundred miles away! and all 
this great distance must be traversed with slow-moving 

[72] 


''Stop, Thief, Stop!'" 

oxen and horses over roadless plains and mountains! 
No wonder the poor emigrant thought of it as the 
“ jumping-off place.” 

On the morning when our friends disembarked at 
Independence Landing, the town is some two or three 
miles from the river, they at once became a part of a 
scene of great bustle and excitement. Other steamboats 
were loading and unloading their passengers and 
goods. Across the river ferries were constantly carrying 
fresh arrivals of emigrants, with their live stock and 
waggons. Men were shouting, waggon-wheels creaking, 
oxen lowing, mules braying, dogs barking, chains rat- 
tling, boxes thumping against boxes as they were un- 
loaded from the boats — rush and confusion every- 
where. The waves of gold-seekers were rolling in from 
every direction and from all parts of the nation, and 
breaking into a confused jumble of men, women, chil- 
dren, horses, oxen, mules, dogs, and waggons at this 
spot. But at last, near the middle of the afternoon, Jed- 
idiah Judson and the two boys succeeded in extricat- 
ing their waggon and goods from all this confusion and 
in getting them to a little open space some distance 
away from the hurly-burly. 

“ Blamed if this don’t beat anything I ever saw,” 
and Jedidiah Judson sat down on the waggon-tongue 
and stared at the exciting scenes passing around him. 
“ Every darned fool in the United States must have 
gone gold mad and started for California. Now just 
look at that man with the woman and three little chil- 
dren and scrawny yoke of oxen and old weather- 
beaten waggon,” and he pointed to an outfit that had 
just crossed the Missouri and was now slowly making 
its way in their direction. “ They look plumb played 
[ 73 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

out already, and the journey hardly begun. Reckon 
they’ve wheeled it all the way from ’tother side of 
the Mississippi. How they ever expect to reach Cali- 
fornia with that outfit is more’n my comprehension can 
comprehend. Them oxen won’t last a fortnight out on 
the plains. And there’s the woman and children! Suf- 
fering Pharaoh, what idiots some men be I ” 

“ See, the poor woman has got a little baby in her 
arms I ” exclaimed Mildred, her voice full of sympathy. 

“ Blamed if she ain’t,” admitted Mr. Judson in 
great disgust. “ That makes four little ones, and the 
oldest not over ten years 1 The man ought to be hanged 
and tarred and feathered and drawn and quartered for 
bringing the woman and the little ones on such a jour- 
ney. ’Tain’t only senseless — it’s cruelty to human 
beings. But there you be 1 Nobody can do a thing 1 — 
Hello ! Reckon we’re to have them for neighbours for 
a spell.” As he spoke the man stopped his oxen not a 
dozen rods away, and began unyoking them, while the 
woman handed the baby to the oldest child, climbed 
listlessly out of the waggon, and stood staring in the 
direction of Jedidiah Judson and his little party. 

Mrs. Judson’s motherly heart was touched by the 
sight of the lonely woman with the four little children. 
“ Pm going right over to see if we can’t be of some 
help to them, Jed,” she said. “ They look as if they 
were half starved, and that baby’s crying goes right to 
my heart. Sounds as if the poor little thing was sick,” 
and the good woman began at once getting together 
a few “ little things ” to take with her on her neigh- 
bourly call. 

“ I reckon you’d better. Cat.” Mrs. Judson’s given 
name was Katherine, but her husband usually called her 
[ 74 ] 


“ Stoy: Thief, Stop! ” 

“ Cat,” “ because,” as he explained, “ life is too short 
to say Katherine to your wife every time you want to 
speak to her, and Cat’s a plumb good fit anyhow, for 
she’s as loving and gentle and purring as a kitten until 
she unsheathes her claws, and then — ” and the look on 
his face finished the sentence. “ I reckon you’d better. 
Cat,” and Mr. Judson’s eyes twinkled. “ ’Twouldn’t 
be polite if you didn’t make the first call, seeing that 
we were here first; but if you save your manners you’ll 
have to hustle, for by the look on that woman’s face 
she’s feeling impelled to shame you by calling first. 
That baby is a yelling some colicy. Poor little tike! 
Now who’d think any father or mother would have the 
heart to take such a little thing on such a journey? 
Blamed if I can understand the foolishness of some 
humans! — Well, what is it. Dimples?” and he threw 
one arm around Mildred, who had come up to him 
while he was speaking, and drew her to him. “ I’ll bet 
a cookie against a farm that you’re figuring on eu- 
chring your old dad out of something. I can see it in 
your eyes. Out with it,” and he gave her right cheek a 
wee pinch, by way of showing what a ferocious parent 
he was. 

“ Well, you’re wrong, dad,” Mildred laughed. “ I 
don’t want anything from you this time. I only want 
to give,” and she glanced up appealingly into her 
father’s eyes. “ I only want to give that poor girl my 
red dress. Mamma says I can, if you don’t care; and 
you know the dress is old, and I am getting so big 
that it’s short for me, but it’s lots better than the dress 
the poor girl has on. Why,” and Mildred’s face showed 
her horror, “ her dress is all full of holes ! I can see 
them clear from here. I can give her the dress, can’t I, 

[75] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

dad?” and she put an arm around his neck and pulled 
his head down until his rough, bearded face pressed 
against her soft, warm cheek. 

“ Of course you can give that poor girl your red 
dress,” Mr. Judson replied, and then continued so- 
berly: “And maybe you’d better take my Sunday-go- 
to-meeting suit of clothes to that poor man, I can see 
his knees sticking out clean from here, and your ma’s 
black alpaca dress to that poor woman, her’n ain’t fit 
to hang on a scarecrow; and — ” But here he caught 
sight of Mildred’s astonished face, and burst into a 
hearty laugh. 

In an instant Mildred saw through the joke. “ All 
right for you. Papa Judson,” she cried merrily. “ But 
you said I could give the girl the dress, and that was 
all I wanted. Good-bye,” and with a rousing smack on 
her father’s cheek, she ran to join her mother. 

“ Now, boys,” and Mr. Judson turned to Ray and 
Arthur, who had just returned with the very last bit of 
baggage from the steamboat, “ I am going to leave you 
on guard while I strike out after a couple of yoke of 
oxen. I hear there’s a man over by the ferry that’s got 
just about the kind of critters I want, and I am anxious 
to buy them at once, so that they can haul us over to 
Independence in time for us to get comfortably settled 
in camp before dark. Mildred and her mother are 
going calling,” and he chuckled and glanced in the di- 
rection of the weather-beaten waggon and its dilapi- 
dated occupants, “ so you’ll be alone. Don’t let any- 
body go poking around the waggon. There’s plenty of 
sheriff’s meat in that crowd over yonder, unless my in- 
tellect misses fire, and we’ve got to be our own doors 
and locks from now on.” 


''Stop, Thief, Stop!'' 

“ Oh, we’ll keep good watch, never fear,” Arthur 
declared a little boastfully. “ And you’ll find the doors 
and locks unbroken when you get back,” he added with 
a laugh. 

“ Reckon I will,” Mr. Judson answered smiling. 
“ But I thought it best to give you a warning. So-long 
everybody. I’ll be back as soon as I can get the cattle,” 
and Jedidiah Judson started off in the direction of the 
ferry, leaving Ray and Arthur alone, for Mildred and 
her mother were by this time on their way to make their 
call. 

The arrival of the Judson party with their spick and 
span new waggon and its costly load of goods had not 
passed unnoticed through the crowded landing place. 
Many an envious eye had followed the waggon to its 
stopping place, a half a mile or more from the river’s 
shore, and at least two pairs of eyes had kept close 
watch of it and its occupants ever since. Now, when 
these two pairs of eyes saw Mr. Judson walking rap- 
idly away from the waggon, leaving two young boys 
in sole charge, they exchanged looks of intelligence. 

“ Now’s our chance. Bob,” said the owner of the 
pair of black eyes and shaggy black hair and beard, 
laying one hand on the shoulder of the owner of the 
pair of blue eyes with the great scar disfiguring the 
nose and left cheek, and speaking hardly above a 
whisper. “ We’ll jest amble out tew th’ waggin kindy 
neighbourly like, an’ get up a talk with them tew kids 
’bout Californe, an’ how we’ve jest came from thar, an’ 
how we’s goin’ back tew our old home in th’ East, rich 
as tew Cresuses with bags an’ bags full of gold-dust; 
an’ after we’ve got them tew kids’ eyes bulgin’ with 
yarns of th’ fab’lous wealth tew be picked up in 

[77] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Californe, I’ll, polite-like, offer tew go an’ get some of 
our gold nuggets, jest tew show th’ kids what th’ stuff 
looks like, an’ off I’ll start, while you starts tew tellin’ th’ 
darndest thrillin’est yarn you can think of, so as tew 
keep th’ kids tew interested tew notice what’s goin’ on, 
an’ then I’ll sneak intew th’ waggin, an’ light out with 
hands an’ pockets full. If th’ kids get onto th’ racket, 
punch ’em, an’ run for th’ crowd. A hundred tew one 
we can git safely away afore th’ youngsters gits thar 
wits back sufficient tew do anything but yell. Is it a go, 
Bob?” 

“Sure, Mike; but ain’t you th’ rum one when it 
comes tew plannin’ ? ” responded Bob, with hearty ap- 
proval and admiration. “ Now I reckon we’d better be 
amblin’, so as to git safe away afore that long-legged 
gent gits back. Come on, an’ look your innocentest, 
Mike, an’ we’ll fool them kids worser than a cage of 
monkeys.” 

When our two unworthy friends reached the wag- 
gon they found Ray and Arthur on the ground a little 
to one side of the waggon. Arthur was reading aloud 
the latest California news from a paper, and Ray was 
stretched out on his back listening to him. Neither saw 
nor heard the two men until Mike spoke. 

“ Howdy, boys,” that worthy began, smiling, and 
rubbing his hands together in front of him. “ Takin’ 
it comfortable an’ easy-like, I see, an’ a-readin’ of th’ 
papers all ’bout th’ gold minin’ in Californe. Most 
wonderful mines in th’ world! Nothin’ like ’em since 
th’ days of Solomon an’ Sheba! Gold! Why,” and he 
spread out both of his hands to make his words more 
impressive, “ th’ newspapers don’t tell half th’ truth, 
’cause them that’s thar don’t want th’ rest of th’ world 

[78] 


“ Stop, Thief, Stop! ” 

to know or every mother’s son of ’em from China tew 
Parue would be a-leggin’ it for Californe. Now me an’ 
my pardner, Bob Simmons, him that’s standin’ thar 
aside of me, knows. We’ve jest come from thar, from 
th’ gold mines, an’,” he lowered his voice, “ I don’t 
mind tellin’ you, confidential-like, that we’ve made our 
pile an’ made it big, an’ now we’re goin’ back tew our 
old homes in Vermont tew make th’ old folks happy 
an’ tew take life easy, me an’ Bob are. Right, Bob?” 

“ Right as preachin’,” answered Bob. “ Never seed 
such a country for gold as Californe is. Pick it up in 
hunks right off th’ ground, same as we could hickory 
nuts back in Vermont. Be you folks goin’ tew Cali- 
forne? Because if you be, me an’ Mike, seein’ we’ve 
been thar, might give you a point or tew.” 

Ray and Arthur at first had been considerably 
startled by the sudden appearance of the two men, and 
more than a little suspicious; for they were roughly 
dressed, unkempt, and dirty, and looked, in the expres- 
sive and implicit language of slang, like two bums; but 
the moment they spoke of having just returned from 
the magic land of California, laden with untold wealth 
from its wonderful mines, all their suspicions were 
forgotten, and their eyes fairly devoured Mike and 
Bob in the intensity of their interest to see two men 
who had actually been to California and dug up its 
gold, much as they had been accustomed to dig up po- 
tatoes, and were returning to their Eastern homes to 
live forever afterward in ease and luxury. No wonder 
men who had had such an experience looked rough and 
unkempt. 

“ Yes, we are going to California,” Arthur an- 
swered, his voice trembling with suppressed excitement 

[79] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and eagerness; “and — and we would think it awfully 
good of you if you would tell us something about its 
wonderful gold mines. You are the first gold miners 
from California we have ever seen. Won’t you sit 
down, please, and tell us all about the gold mines? Do 
they really find gold nuggets as big as hickory nuts 
lying right on top of the ground?” and the eyes of 
both the boys fixed themselves on the faces of the two 
men, fascinated with interest. 

“ Sure we’ll set down, bein’ that you’re so sociable- 
like an’ friendly,” and Bob squatted down on the 
ground by the side of the boys. “ Do they find gold 
nuggets as big as hickory nuts in Californe? As big as 
hickory nuts! Did you hear that, Mike? As big as hick- 
ory nuts I Why, me an’ Mike — But did you kids ever 
see a gold nugget, a real virgin gold nugget, jest as it 
was picked up from th’ ground? ” 

“ No-o-o,” responded both boys, their eyes aflame 
with interest. 

“ Did you hear that, Mike? Never seed a gold nug- 
get! Such ignerence! ’Cuse me, but tew me an’ Mike, 
jest from Californe, tew find a person who’d never seed 
a gold nugget seems as astoundin’ as ’twould be tew 
find a man who’d never seed a pertatoe. Never seed a 
gold nugget ! Now, Mike, you hike right over tew our 
camp an’ bring back a hatful of nuggets, an’ we’ll give 
th’ kids a chance tew see th’ real stuff jest as we picked 
it off th’ top of th’ earth.” 

“ Oh, if you would! ” exclaimed Ray, his eyes shin- 
ing. “ But won’t it be too much trouble? I ” 

“ Trouble? ” broke in Mike indignantly. “ I reckon 
you don’t know me an’ Bob. We never stops for trou- 
ble when we’s ’commodatin’ friends. ’Course I’ll go, an’ 
[80] 


Stop, Thief, Stop!'' 

be back right smart with nuggets enough tew fill a milk 
pail. So-long,” and he started off on a rapid walk. 

“ Nuggets, do they find nuggets as big as hickory 
nuts in Californe, you ask? Why, as I was sayin’,” and 
Bob brought his fist down on the ground with a whack 
that instantly riveted the attention of the two boys on 
him, and enabled the dexterous Mike to slip into the 
covered waggon unseen by their eyes. “ Why, as I was 
sayin’, me an* Mike on a Sunday afternoon was 
a-strollin* up one of these here Californe gulches, not 
a-thinkin’ of gold an’ jest a-talkin’ sociable-like, when 
I ups an’ stubs my toe on a rock an’ went, ger-whallop, 
headfust down intew a chasm ’bout a mile deep, but I 
got only ’bout ten feet down when my head bumps on 
a narrer ledge of rocks an’ I stuck thar, knocked sense- 
less but without much damage done. 

“ When I comes tew, th’ fust thing I heered was 
Mike hollerin’ : ‘ Don’t move, for th’ love of hiven, 
don’t move. Bob, or you’ll knock it off I ’ I looks up 
an’ thar was Mike, white of face an’ a-starin’ down 
wild-like, an’ a-stretchin’ down his tew arms an’ im- 
plorin’ of me not tew move or I’d knock it off; an’ then 
I seed somethin’ right by my side an’ within an inch 
of th’ edge of th’ narrer ledge of rocks on which I was 
a-lyin’, that made my blood jump like race horses. 
’Twas a round yeller chunk of pure virgin gold as big 


But Bob never stopped to tell how big that “ round 
yeller chunk of pure virgin gold ” was, for at that in- 
stant a crash of falling tinware, followed by an oath 
and a ripping sound of tearing cloth, coming from 
within the covered waggon, told him that Mike had 
come to grief and that it was time for him to light out. 

[8i] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

He jumped to his feet just as the startled boys leaped 
to theirs, and then, before either of the lads had the 
least idea of what was happening, he struck out with 
both fists, knocking Ray and Arthur flat on their backs, 
and ran for the crowded landing where in three min- 
utes he was swallowed up in the hurrying throngs. 

In the meantime Mike was passing through a scene 
of even greater excitement. The instant the tin pail fell 
he knew that the game was up and that it behooved 
him to get away from there as quickly as his legs could 
take him. He jerked out his knife, ripped open the can- 
vas cover of the waggon on the side opposite to the 
boys, jumped to the ground, and started, with pockets 
and hands loaded with plunder, for the crowded steam- 
boat landing. But he had reckoned without accounting 
for our dilapidated friend of the weather-beaten wag- 
gon and scrawny oxen, who at that precise instant was 
leaning listlessly against the tail end of his waggon, his 
eyes fixed on the clean white cover and glistening paint 
of his neighbour’s new waggon. As the form of Mike 
shot out through the side of the waggon cover our 
dilapidated friend straightened up with a jerk, thrust 
his right arm quickly into his waggon, and pulled out 
an old long-barrelled rifle which he instantly threw to 
his shoulder. 

“ Stop, thief, stop ! ” he yelled. 

But Mike only ran the faster, dropping a bundle of 
clothes that retarded his speed, while the violence of 
his exertions forced various odds and ends that he had 
appropriated out of his stuffed pockets, leaving a wake 
of stolen goods behind him. 

“ Stop, gol-dang ye ! Stop I ” 

Still Mike’s legs flew. 

[82] 


‘‘Stop, Thief, Stop!^^ 

“ Shoot, Jud ! ” yelled the woman. “ Shoot, he’s 
a-thievin’ ! ” 

“ Reckon I’d better,” and Jud shot. 

With a wild yell Mike clapped both hands to his 
head, his hat had been knocked flying, and plunged 
headlong to the ground. 

“ Reckon I’d better see what he’s got in them pock- 
ets, Meranda, afore he comes tew his right senses,” 
and Jud, holding his rifle in his right hand, started on 
the run to where Mike lay groaning and swearing and 
kicking. The moment he reached the prostrate man, he 
gripped him by the shoulders and yanked him to his 
feet. “ Now stand thar, concern ye, an’ unload ! ” 
he cried, stepping back quickly and throwing his rifle 
to his shoulder and levelling it straight at Mike’s 
head. 

“ I’m shot ! I’m killed ! ” shrieked Mike, as a little 
stream of blood trickled down from between his fin- 
gers. “ I’m killed! I’m dead! ” 

“ Shut up, an’ unload, quick! ” snapped Jud, his eye 
flaming along the top of his rifle barrel. “ Danged 
quick, or my next shot’ll kill you dead.” 

Mike saw the rifle barrel, saw the eye flaming above 
it and the stern face behind it; and his wild yells died 
in choking gurgles in his throat and his hands dropped 
limply to his sides and his face whitened until the little 
stream of blood trickling down his cheek looked like a 
streak of red ink on a bit of white paper. “ Do-o-don’t 
shoot ! ” he gasped. 

“ Unload them pockets,” commanded Jud. 

With shaking hands Mike began emptying his 
pockets, his eyes fixed in a fascination of horror on the 
little round hole in the muzzle of Jud’s rifle, and 

[83] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

his trembling tongue stammering over and over; 
“ Do-on’ t, do-do-on’t sho-o-ot.” 

“Now git!” ordered Jud, when the last pocket 
hung limp and empty inside out. “ An’ git so fast an’ 
far that ha’r nor hide of ye can be found in these parts 
at th’ end of an hour. Git 1 ” and suddenly lowering his 
rifle, he sprang behind Mike and started him on his 
way with a kick that nearly lifted him off his feet. 

Mike, with a jump like that of a jack-rabbit, was off; 
and in a couple of minutes the hurly-burly of the 
crowded landing had swallowed up his flying form. 

At this moment Ray and Arthur rushed around the 
end of the waggon, and in the utmost excitement ran 
to where Jud stood leaning on his rifle and chuckling 
to himself. 

“What — what has happened?” panted Ray. 

“ Who — who’s shot? ” cried Arthur. 

“ Thieves,” answered Jud, pointing to the trail of 
scattered goods ending in the little pile where Mike had 
stood, and to the slit waggon cover, “ jest ornery 
thieves, but I reckon they didn’t git nothin’. Leastwise 
I made one on ’em unload. Held th’ danged idjit up 
with an empty gun,” and Jud chuckled. 

An hour later when Jedidiah Judson returned driv- 
ing before him two yoke of oxen, he found an excited 
group gathered in front of his waggon, half surround- 
ing Ray and Arthur, who sat on the waggon-tongue, 
while Mildred and her mother occupied the driver’s 
seat. The boys were heartily disgusted with the part 
they had played in the attempted robbery, and exceed- 
ingly anxious to get rid of the crowd, who persisted in 
staring at them and asking fool questions, after the 
manner of crowds the world over. 

[84] 


stop, Thief, Stop!’^ 

“What’s all this pow-wow about?” and Mr. Jud- 
son elbowed his way hastily through the crowd to 
where Ray and Arthur sat, his face white with anxiety. 

In as few words as possible Arthur told him what 
had happened, and before he was through Mr. Jud- 
son’s eyes were twinkling and his lips twitching. He 
remembered very distinctly Arthur’s boastful words: 
“ You’ll find the doors and locks unbroken when you 
get back.” 

“ ’Pears to me,” he said, grinning broadly and 
glancing at Ray’s swollen nose and Arthur’s black eye, 
mementos of the hardness of Bob’s fists, “ that the 
doors and locks must have given the robbers consider- 
able trouble, judging from the color of Art’s eye and 
the size of Ray’s nose. Well, you got fooled good that 
time, youngsters, but I reckon ’twill take a sharper pair 
than them two rascals to play that game on you again. 
Neighbour,” and he turned to Jud, who stood leaning 
listlessly against one of the front wheels of the waggon, 
his rifle still in his hand, “ you did us a mighty good 
turn in a mighty prompt and effective way. Here’s my 
hand. Jedidiah Judson’s got a good memory,” and he 
gripped the hand of the man and shook it warmly. 

“ ’Twasn’t nothin’,” responded Jud. “ Jest a lettle 
’musement tew liven things up a bit. More fun than 
Jud Jimpson an’ his old rifle’s had afore for a month 
of Sundays. Now I reckon I’d better be a gettin’ back 
tew Meranda an’ th’ yunks, seein’ that you is back. 
Thank you kindly, madam,” and he jerked off his wide- 
brimmed hat and turned to Mrs. Judson and Mildred, 
“ for a-comin’ over so neighbourly like, you an’ th’ 
lettle gal. ’Twas mighty good of you. Th’ old woman’s 
plumb tuckered out, an’ th’ baby’s sort of ailin’ an’ 

[85] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

fretful, an’ th’ oxen’s that petered seems like they 
couldn’t pull th’ old waggon another rod ; but I reckon 
a few days’ rest’ll put us all on our mettle ag’in. Be 
you bound for Californy, neighbour?” 

Mr. Judson answered him in the affirmative. 

“ So is me an’ th’ old woman an’ th’ yunks, an’ we’s 
all a-calculatin’ on cornin’ back tew our old home in 
Illinoy a-rollin’ in gold,” and Jud chuckled. “ Well, I 
reckon I’d better amble over tew th’ old woman an’ th’ 
yunks. So-long, neighbour,” and he slouched off in the 
direction of his waggon. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” and Mr. Judson turned good- 
naturedly to the crowd still lingering around the wag- 
gon, “ seeing that the circus is all over we won’t keep 
you any longer, and you can return to your several du- 
ties, with our thanks for your friendly interest. We’re 
all safe now, and you can leave us without fear of our 
getting into any further trouble.” 

The men laughed, cracked a few jokes, and hurried 
away. 

Arthur, like many boys, had been given a little to 
boasting, but hereafter it was only necessary to men- 
tion Bob’s big nugget when anything like a brag came 
from his lips to transform him immediately into a mod- 
est, blushing boy. 

“ Now for Independence,” Mr. Judson said as soon 
as the field was cleared of the crowd, and straightway 
began yoking the oxen to the waggon, an operation that 
interested Mildred and the boys immensely, for it was 
the actual beginning of their long journey overland to 
California. From now on they were emigrants with no 
home but the waggon or tent. They were about to 
make the actual “ jump off ” that would place them 
[ 86 ] 


“ Stop, Thief, Stop! ” 

beyond the protection and comforts and luxuries of 
civilisation. 

At last all was ready for the first turning of the 
wheels westward. Mildred and the boys with much 
laughter assisted Mrs. Judson to the place of honour 
on the driver’s seat, and then scrambled over the back 
of the seat and stood up behind her. Jedidiah Judson 
gripped the long-lashed whip in his right hand, cast a 
swift glance over the oxen, and jumped to the seat by 
the side of Mrs. Judson. For a moment there was si- 
lence, each, even the children, was thinking of what 
the journey about to be begun might portend, and then 
the irrepressible enthusiasm of youth broke loose. 

“ Ho, for California ! ” shouted Ray. 

“ Hurrah for California ! ” yelled Arthur. 

“ We’re off 1 Hurrah, we’re off for California I ” 
cried Mildred. 

“ Hurrah, hurrah, for the gold mines of Califor- 
nia I ” laughed Mrs. Judson. 

“California or bust!” exclaimed Jedidiah Judson, 
and swung his whip. The long lash cracked, the willing 
oxen strained at their creaking yokes, the wheels of the 
heavy waggon turned, and the long, overland journey 
had begun. 

Jud Jimpson and his entire family were out in force 
to see them off, and promised to hunt them up when 
they came over to Independence in a day or two, and 
shouted and waved their good-byes as long as sight or 
hearing could reach them. 


[87] 


CHAPTER NINE 


SCOOT 

T he sun was nearing the Western horizon when 
our friends drove through Independence. 
The streets of the town were crowded with 
emigrants and with a wild medley of hunters, trappers, 
Mexicans, half-breeds, Indians, horses, mules, oxen, 
and dogs. A large number of roughly built stores, filled 
with necessaries for the long journey across the plains, 
offered their wares on every hand. From all sides came 
the sound of the blacksmiths’ hammers, busy repairing 
the waggons and shoeing the horses, mules, and oxen of 
the emigrants. A spirit of feverish excitement and un- 
rest was in the air. “ I am bound for the gold mines of 
California, hurry 1 ” seemed written on every face. 

Mr. Judson did not stop In town. If they pitched 
camp before It became dark there would be no time 
for sightseeing. 

The wide prairie westward from the town was 
nearly covered with the waggons and tents of the emi- 
grants, and on the open plains beyond hundreds of cat- 
tle and horses were grazing. Picturesque groups of emi- 
grants were gathered about the waggons and the tents. 
Some were cooking the evening meal in the open air; 
others were repairing their tents or waggon-covers, 
or mending their clothes, or trading off parts of their 
[ 88 ] 


Scoot 

outfits; children were running In and out among the 
tents and waggons, watched by their mothers ; and here 
and there knots of men were discussing excitedly and 
loudly the latest news from California, or some politi- 
cal or religious problem. 

Straight through this strange suburban city of emi- 
grants Mr. Judson drove, while the eyes of Mildred 
and the boys jumped from one interesting scene to an- 
other and their tongues clattered incessantly, until he 
came to a dry and slightly elevated bit of the prairie, not 
far from a small stream of water and within easy reach 
of an abundance of grass for the oxen. Here he halted 
the oxen, and shouting, “ Everybody tumble out ! 
Here’s where we camp,” leaped from the waggon and 
began at once unyoking the oxen. 

The feet of Mildred and the boys struck the ground 
almost as soon as did those of Mr. Judson, the boys 
hurrying away to help unyoke and tether the oxen, and 
Mildred remaining at the waggon to aid her mother 
get supper. They had had nothing to eat save a meagre 
lunch since early morning, and all were ‘‘ desperately 
hungry,” as Mr. Judson put it. 

A light sheet-iron cook-stove was one of the things 
purchased in St. Louis; and as soon as Mr. Judson and 
the boys returned from attending to the needs of the 
oxen this stove was taken from the waggon, set up on 
the ground, and soon had a fire roaring merrily in it. 

“ Now, boys, out with the tent, and we’ll have it up 
before two jerks of a lamb’s tail ! ” Mr. Judson called 
to Ray and Arthur, who had become deeply interested 
in Mrs. Judson’s cooking the moment the stove was in 
place and ready to do its share of the work. “ The 
women folks will want it for a bunking place to-night, 

[89] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

but we men need only the earth beneath us and the skies 
above for our shelter. A roomy bedroom, eh, boys ! ” 
he laughed. 

The boys were in the waggon almost before he 
ceased speaking, and in three minutes the stout sack 
containing the roll of canvas, tent-pins, etc., and the 
tent-poles were out of the waggon and on the ground. 

Mr. Judson selected a smooth plot of ground a rod 
to the right of the waggon, and here the tent was 
pitched. Ray and Arthur were surprised to find how 
easily and quickly this could be done when superin- 
tended by one who understood how to go about it. 
The tent was a wall-tent, large enough for half a 
dozen people to move around in it without inconvenient 
crowding, and so high that a tall man could stand in its 
centre without his head touching the ridge-pole from 
which its canvas roof slanted downward to within four 
feet of the ground. A heavy canvas fly tightly stretched 
over the ridge-pole afforded an additional protection 
from the rain and the hot rays of the sun. 

“ Don’t it look cool and comfortable?” commented 
Arthur, as he pulled aside the flap and stepped in the 
moment the last tent-pin had been driven into the 
ground. 

“ You bet! ” was Ray’s emphatic response as he fol- 
lowed Arthur inside the tent. 

“ How do. Leaping Beaver? How do. White Otter? 
Can Smiling Waters come in?” and Mildred thrust a 
face dimpling with smiles and rosy with excitement 
through the tent opening. 

“How do, squaw papoose?” grunted Arthur. 
“ Welcome. Heap fine lodge,” and then in his excite- 
ment, forgetting his Indian manners, he caught hold 
[90] 


Scoot 

of Mildred, and jerking her into the tent, exclaimed: 
“ Oh, isn’t this great, Mildred? Don’t it feel cool and 
sweet in here? ” 

“ Yes,” and Mildred stood still in the centre of the 
tent and looked, in an ecstacy of childish delight, from 
the clean, white, slanting roof and straight walls to the 
soft, sweet-smelling carpet of grass beneath her feet. 
“ Yes, it is perfectly lovely! I must show mamma how 
clean and cool and sweet our cloth-house is ! ” and Mil- 
dred darted through the tent opening, and returned a 
moment later pulling her laughing and protesting 
mother after her, and declaring that her mother must 
have “ just a glimpse ” of their “ white house,” 
“ even if the meat did burn and the coffee boiled over.” 

Mrs. Judson was almost as enthusiastic over the tent 
as was Mildred herself, and was sure she could sleep 
as sweetly and as peaceably in it as if she were in her 
own bedroom at home. She told the boys to get the two 
cots and the other things that she and Mildred would 
need out of the waggon and put them in the tent, and 
then after directing Mildred how to arrange the things 
in their novel bedroom, she hurried back to her cook- 
ing, enjoying the unusual experiences of this first night 
on the open prairie almost as much as did the children 
themselves. 

“ Supper! Come to supper! ” yelled Mr. Judson fif- 
teen minutes later, suddenly thrusting his head into the 
tent, where the children were busy “ fixing up ” for the 
night’s occupancy. 

“ Mercy, but I am glad we are to have something 
to eat at last ! ” and Mildred dropped the bundle of 
clothes she was about to place on one of the cots. 
“ Come on. I’ll beat you to the table.” She rushed out 

[91 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

of the tent, followed by Ray and Arthur, who did their 
utmost to get to where Mrs. Judson had spread a white 
table-cloth on the green grass and placed the food 
thereon, picnic style, before the girl did; but Mildred’s 
feet were as swift as a young fawn’s, and she reached 
the cloth a good six feet ahead of either boy. 

“ There I ” she cried, as she came to a sudden halt 
in front of a steaming plate of potatoes. “ I told you 
I could beat you to the table, and I did,” and her cheeks 
dimpled and her eyes sparkled. “ You boys are so 
slow ! ” 

“But — ^but where is the table?” panted Arthur. 
“ I can’t see any table, so how could you have beaten 
us to it?” and he looked around triumphantly. 

“ Sure and the boy has got you. Dimples,” laughed 
Mr. Judson. “ Where is the table? Where, oh, where is 
the table?” 

For a moment Mildred was nonplussed, then her 
cheeks dimpled and her eyes twinkled more merrily 
than ever. 

“ Why it is there, right there on the lap of dear Old 
Mother Earth, and it has a thousand beautiful green 
legs,” and she pointed to the white cloth resting on the 
green grass; “ and if you and Arthur can’t see it. Papa 
Judson, then you don’t get any supper, do they, mam- 
ma ? Now all who can find the table be seated,” and she 
threw herself down on the ground by the side of the 
plate of potatoes. 

“ Hurrah for Mildred’s grass-legged table I ” 
shouted Ray, dropping down by her side. “ I see the 
food, and I don’t care what sort of a table is under it. 
Here goes,” and he helped himself to a huge slice of 
bread. 


[ 92 ] 


Scoot 

“ Same here,” and Arthur flopped down on the grass 
by his side. “ I was blind, but now I can see Mildred’s 
table, and it’s fine — I mean the food,” and he, too, 
caught up a slice of bread. “ This is great. Just like a 
picnic,” and a huge mouthful of bread stopped his 
further utterance. 

“ Good for you I ” and Mr. Judson pinched the dim- 
ple on Mildred’s rosy cheek. “ Such reasoning, forti- 
fied by such a threat to an empty stomach, gives me sud- 
den light. I can see the table, and you did beat the boys ; 
but unless you get busy at once, they will beat you at 
the table if they could not to the table. The smell of 
that meat and coffee makes me think of home and — • 
wife,” he finished with a loving glance in the direction 
of Mrs. Judson, who stood, smiling and flushed, di- 
rectly across the table-cloth from him, a steaming 
coffee-pot in her hand. “ Just pass me over a cup of that 
coffee. Cat,” and he seated himself before the plate of 
meat. “ This reminds me of a Sunday-school picnic,” 
and his twinkling eyes looked from the happy faces of 
the children to that of his wife. “ But,” and his face 
sobered, “ I fear we will find it no picnic before we 
reach California.” 

“ Now, Jed, never mind the future. We live only in 
the present. Let us get all the joy out of it we can, and 
we will be in all the better shape to meet trouble if it 
should come. Do you take sugar and milk in your cof- 
fee, Ray?” and Mrs. Judson turned her smiling face 
to Ray, who promptly answered in the affirmative. 

That first meal in the open air on the wide prairie 
with the tents and waggons of the gold-seekers all 
about them was one to be long remembered by Mil- 
dred and the two boys. It seemed as if something 

[93] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

amusing was said or done every minute; and so inter- 
ested were all, each in the doings of the others, that r o 
one saw the ragged piccaninny approaching, step by step, 
as if drawn by an irresistible fascination to the merry 
group, until he paused almost directly behind Mildred, 
his rolling eyes fixed hungrily on the bountiful feast, 
and his thick lips parted, showing two rows of shiny 
white teeth that looked as if they might be fairly ach- 
ing to get hold of some of the good things before them. 
He had a round, jolly face, black and shiny as a pol- 
ished stove, the shortest of kinky black hair, and huge 
ears that stuck out from each side of his head like black, 
skinny wings. He wore no hat, his tattered shirt was 
several sizes too large, and his ragged trousers, held in 
place by strings, had evidently once belonged to a man 
and had been fitted to him by the simple process of cut- 
ting off their legs. This access of trousers about the 
middle gave his body a curious and comical resem- 
blance to that of a toad. He appeared to be about ten 
years old, and looked as if he, like Topsy, might have 
“ growed ’’ up some dark morn without human aid or 
care. 

Almost at the same moment that this black tatter- 
demalion paused behind Mildred, she jumped to her 
feet, whirled around to run to the waggon to get a 
needed dish, and nearly tumbled over the little negro 
boy before she saw him. 

“ Oh I ” and Mildred stopped short and stared in 
the utmost astonishment at the queer little bit of black 
humanity. “ Where did you drop from? ” 

“ I done tumbled out ob de debbel’s coal-scuttle,” 
grinned the little imp, rolling his eyes and not at all 
abashed. “Massah Tom Pike done tolded me so. Ps not 

[94] 


Scoot 

bo’ned like white fo’ks am. I’s a cussed little no-’count 
black niggah; but Fs free. Massah Tom Pike gib me 
my free papahs dis berry mo’ning, an’ I done hab noth- 
ing to eat since,” and his eyes turned hungrily to the 
remains of Mrs. Judson’s generous supper. 

“ And you evidently prefer a full stomach to free- 
dom,” laughed Mr. Judson. 

“ Yes, sah,” answered the boy, rolling the whites of 
his eyes in Mr. Judson’s direction, “ dat am it I ’specs. 
Fs pow’ful hungry. I done hab nothing to eat since 
mo’ning,” and his eyes looked as if they were endeav- 
ouring to draw the food from the “ table ” into his 
mouth, held open ready to receive it. 

“ You poor boy ! ” and Mildred glanced at her 
mother, who nodded. “ You shall have something to 
eat this minute,” and she caught up a plate and began 
piling on it meat and potatoes and bread and cake until 
it could hold no more. This she carried to the little 
negro and gave it to him. 

“Golly, am all dat fo’ me?” and he grabbed the 
plate with both hands, squatted down on the ground, 
and holding the plate on his lap, began stuffing the food 
into his mouth almost as fast as he could make his two 
hands go, while his eyes rolled from one interested face 
to another. 

Mildred stood in front of the little negro boy and 
watched his gastronomic feats with astonished interest. 
Mrs. Judson smiled, Mr. Judson laughed loudly, and 
Ray and Arthur stared and grinned and made funny 
comments. But the small hlack boy continued to give 
his exclusive and undivided attention to the food until 
the last mouthful had disappeared between his gleam- 
ing white teeth. Then he arose slowly to his feet, 

[95] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

handed the empty plate to Mildred, smiled from ear to 
ear, and rubbing his fat little belly joyously, said : “ Fs 
gwine to be yo’r lil niggah boy. Massah Tom Pike 
done nebber feed dis niggah like dat.” 

“ But I don’t want no lil nigger boy,” laughed Mil- 
dred. “ Won’t you tell me your name? ” 

‘‘ Scoot.” 

“ What? ” and Mildred stared at the black grinning 
face. “ Your name, I asked you to tell me your name.” 

“ I done told yo’. It’s Scoot, jes’ Scoot. When Mas- 
sah Tom Pike want dis niggah, he yells, ‘ Scoot,’ an’ 
I done come. When he don’t want me no mo’, he says, 
‘ Scoot,’ mad-like, an’ I done scoots it. Yes’m, I’s jes’ 
Scoot,” and he rolled his eyes in surprise at the loud 
laughter with which the boys and Mr. Judson received 
his explanations. 

“ Well, Scoot,” and Mr. Judson arose to his feet, 
“ now that you have had your feed supposing you do 
something to earn it. Here, go to the creek and get a 
pail of water,” and picking up a small wooden pail, he 
handed it to the negro boy, at the same time pointing 
in the direction of the small stream of water that flowed 
by some fifteen rods from their encampment. 

“ Yes, massah,” and Scoot seized the pail, his face 
shining with willingness, and started on the run for the 
creek. 

“Poor little fellow!” Mildred exclaimed, her eyes 
following the odd little figure pityingly. “ I don’t be- 
lieve he ever had all he wanted to eat before at one 
time. But oh, isn’t he funny? I — I — ” and she looked 
doubtingly from the face of her father to that of her 
mother — “ I do wish he might go with us. He — he 
don’t seem to have anybody to care for him, and he 

[96] 


Scoot 

would be so useful getting water and washing dishes 
and running after things; and — and he’s so comical he 
would keep us laughing half the time.” 

“ He would be a walking circus on two black legs,” 
laughed Ray. 

“ I am not sure but what it might be a good idea,” 
and Mrs. Judson’s motherly face lighted up with in- 
terest. “ As Mildred says, there are lots of little things 
he might do, and I do just ache to get those ragged 
old clothes off him and give his black body a good 
scrubbing. He ” 

“ There, there. Cat,” interrupted Mr. Judson. 
“ Dirt and rags to you are like a red cloth to a bull, 
but we’re not running a negro reformatory institution 
across the plains. Besides, the boy has a master, and we 
might get into trouble if we allowed him to go with us.” 

“ But he’s free,” interposed Mildred. “ Didn’t you 
hear him say that he was free and that his master gave 
him his free papers this very morning?” 

“ Pooh ! A likely story,” and Mr. Judson smiled in- 
credulously. “ Anyway, we’ve all the mouths we’ll want 
to feed, and I never did fancy a black skin, young or 
old, little or big. Here, you little imp,” and he turned 
to the negro boy who had just returned with the pail- 
ful of water, “ set the pail down and get back to your 
master, or he’ll tan your hide for you.” 

“ I done got no massah,” Scoot replied, setting the 
pail down and standing in front of Mr. Judson. “ I’s 
a free niggah. Massah Tom Pike gib me my free 
papahs dis berry morning ’cause I done eat too much 
salt, an’ done told me he nebber wants to sot eyes on 
me again.” 

“ Gave you your freedom because you ate too much 

[97] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

salt,-” laughed Mr. Judson. “ Now if it had been bread 
and meat and potatoes and hoe cakes, judging from 
the way that plate of food went into your mouth, I 
should have applauded ‘ Massah ’ Tom Pike’s good 
sense, but why salt? ” 

“ He done told me I’s not wo’th my salt. I dunno 
why he ’feared ob his salt. I nebber hook none,” and 
Scoot scratched his woolly head. “ An’ dis mo’ning he 
done gib me a lickin’ an’ my free papahs, an’ told me 
to get out an’ nebber come back no mo’, an’ now I’s 
gwine to be yo’ niggah boy, fo’ yo’ food am certainly 
good,” and Scoot looked as if that settled that im- 
portant matter. 

“ Oh, you are, are you? ” and Mr. Judson frowned. 
“ And I don’t suppose it makes any difference to you 
whether or not I want you? Well, it does to me. Now 
you black bag of rags and impudence get back to your 
Master Tom Pike or whoever he may be just as fast 
as your black legs will take you, or,” and Mr. Judson 
stepped to the side of the waggon, caught up the long- 
lashed ox-whip, and swinging it swiftly around his 
head, cracked the snapper with a pistol-like report, 
within a foot of Scoot’s startled ears. 

“ Golly! ” and Scoot jumped as if it had been a real 
pistol and aimed at his head, and with a swift glance 
at Mr. Judson’s frowning face, darted away as fast as 
his black legs could carry him, spurred for a few rods 
by the crack, crack of Mr. Judson’s whip-lash. 

“ Papa, Papa Judson 1 ” and Mildred, flushed and 
angry, caught hold of her father’s arm, “ why did you 
do that? ” 

“ Well, ril tell you. Dimples,” Mr. Judson an- 
swered chuckling, “ I did not want that black boy 

[98] 


Scoot 

hanging around this camp all the time ; and as he didn’t 
appear to be able to take a word-hint, I thought I 
would see what the whip would do. Great, wasn’t it? ” 
and he pointed to the still running negro boy and 
laughed. “ He understands the whip language all right, 
if he doesn’t the English. You didn’t think I intended 
to hurt the little tike, did you ? ” and he laid a hand 
caressingly on Mildred’s head. “ Why, I just wanted 
to frighten him so that he wouldn’t be hanging around 
us all night. It’s all right, girlie. Now give your mother 
the help of two willing hands and legs, for it is 
early to bed and early to rise from now on with us. 
See the sun has already set, and there is much yet 
to be done before we can get settled for the night,” 
and he pointed across the prairie to the far Western 
horizon, aflame with the ruddy afterglow of the set- 
ting sun. 

Mr. Judson built a small camp-fire in front of the 
tent opening; and around this, when everything had 
been made ready for the night, which was not accom- 
plished until it was nearing nine o’clock, they all gath- 
ered for a few minutes’ talk before going to their 
“beds.” ^ 

The night was cloudless, and above their heads 
shone the silvery crescent of a new moon and thousands 
of sparkling stars, while all around them, in whatever 
direction they looked, were the glowing camp-fires of 
the gold-seekers, surrounded by groups of dark, mov- 
ing figures. In the darker background the tents and 
white-topped waggons showed a bit ghostly in the dim 
moonlight. A little to the eastward a party of men 
were singing merrily around their camp-fire, and from 
the south came the “ plunk,” “ plunk,” of a banjo 

[99] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

accompanied by the sweet voice of a woman. Not far 
away a baby was crying, and from a greater distance 
came the sounds of the laughter and singing of men and 
women, the shouts and cries of children, the barking of 
dogs, the occasional lowing of a cow, and the other 
noises peculiar to such an encampment. All these varied 
sounds seemed to mingle and blend harmoniously to- 
gether in the still prairie air of the early night, and 
added to the charm and romance of the scene. 

Neither Mildred nor the boys ever forgot the spell 
of that first night around the camp-fire on the open 
plains, when all was new and strange and wonderful 
and dream-like, and not one of the hard, matter-of-fact 
realities had yet thrust itself forward to dispel the illu- 
sion that crossing the plains in a prairie-schooner was 
anything but a picnic. How fortunate it is that we can- 
not look into the future and see the hardships and 
perils that we may be called upon to endure and brave I 

For nearly an hour they sat talking, with the glow 
of the camp-fire shining on their faces, then Mr. Jud- 
son arose to his feet. 

“To bed,, everybody ! ” he commanded. “To-mor- 
row’s sunrise must find us up and stirring. Now get 
into your white house, and may your sleep be undis- 
turbed and your dreams sweet,” and he kissed the dim- 
ple on each of Mildred’s cheeks and bade her and Mrs. 
Judson good-night. “ Come, boys, get your blankets. 
We will bunk right here by the fire,” and accompanied 
by Ray and Arthur, he went to the waggon after his 
own blankets. 

“ Is no one to keep watch for fear some one will get 
into the waggon and steal something while we sleep? ” 
Ray asked, as he spread his blanket out on the ground, 
[ 100 ] 


Scoot 

and lying down with his feet to the fire, Indian fashion, 
proceeded to make himself as comfortable as possible. 

“ No, I hardly think it is necessary,” Mr. Judson re- 
plied. “ We have little to fear from sneak thieves now 
that we are in camp where thieves are given short trials 
and long ropes. No more talking. Good-night,” and 
Mr. Judson rolled himself up in his blanket and closed 
his eyes, little thinking that before morning he would 
have good cause to change his views regarding the des- 
perate boldness of the sneak thieves that infested the 
encampment. 


[ lOI ] 


CHAPTER TEN 


THE BLACK SPOTS IN THE DARKNESS 

R ay and Arthur were very tired and sleepy, and 
notwithstanding the hard uncomfortableness 
^ of their beds, both lads were sound asleep ten 
minutes after they had rolled themselves up in their 
blankets. 

An hour, two hours, three hours passed. The camp- 
fire had burned down to a bed of ruddy coals that shone 
like a great red eye. In the surrounding darkness were 
many other red eyes. All the varied sounds of the early 
night had become still, save the occasional barking of 
a wakeful dog and the cries of the restless night birds. 
The heavy, regular breathings of Mr. Judson and the 
two boys told that they were sound asleep, while a 
softer sound coming from within the white walls of 
the tent showed the quiet serenity in which Mildred 
and her mother slept, doubtless dreaming of their far 
Eastern home. A short distance away the white-topped 
cover of the waggon stood out distinctly against the 
dark background of the night, adding to the peaceful 
restfulness of the scene. 

Presently, in the distance back of the waggon, a 
black spot appeared moving cautiously in its direction. 
At first it was only a black spot, like an ink blot on the 
darkness of the night; but as it came slowly nearer and 
[ 102 ] 


The Black Spots in the Darkness 

nearer to the waggon it gradually took form. For a 
minute or two it had the semblance of a huge black 
dog prowling through the darkness; then as it paused 
near the waggon and straightened up, it was seen to be 
standing on two legs. A few steps closer and in the dim 
moonlight of the clear prairie air the squat black form 
of the little negro boy, Scoot, showed itself, standing 
close to the waggon and listening intently. 

“ Ebberybody am sound asleep,” he soliloquised 
softly. “ Fs done gwine to crawl under de waggon an’ 
get a nap befo’ mo’ning, an’ den Fs gwine to ask dat 
lil gal if I can’t get some mo’ watah fo’ some mo’ eat. 
’Pears like dis chile done nebber get ’nuf to eat, an’ dis 
niggah likes dat lil gal’s food,” and Scoot smacked his 
thick lips in pleasant recollection of his recent savoury 
feast. “ Dat am a mighty long whip,” and he shook his 
head dubiously and hesitated. “ A mighty long whip, 
an’ I ’specs it hurts ter’ble, but dis chile goter eat, Fs 
goter eat,” and crouching suddenly, he slipped under 
the waggon, and lay down in the dark shadows between 
the two front wheels. 

Possibly ten minutes passed after Scoot disappeared 
under the waggon when two more black spots appeared 
out of the surrounding darkness and began cautiously 
moving toward the point where the white top of Mr. 
Judson’s waggon stood clearly outlined against the 
darkness. As they came nearer, the spots began to as- 
sume definite outlines, until when within a few feet of 
the waggon they became the dark-clothed forms of two 
men, stepping so carefully that their feet made not the 
least audible sound. When the two men reached the 
side of the waggon opposite to where Mr. Judson and 
the boys lay sleeping, they paused and straightened up. 

[ 103 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

You crawl inside, Mike, and hand the stuff out,” 
the taller man whispered, “ and be almighty careful 
about making a noise. Like as not that long-legged cuss 
has got his shooting irons with him in the blanket.” 

“ All right, Tom. Sing out quick if we’re discovered. 
Jest stand where you can keep an eye on what’s goin’ 
on ’round th’ camp-fire,” and Mike with the utmost 
caution began climbing into the front end of the wag- 
gon, while his comrade with equal caution stepped 
close to the waggon-tongue, where he would be in sight 
of the sleeping forms around the camp-fire and within 
easy reach of whatever might be handed out. A mo- 
ment later Mike disappeared within the waggon. 

For perhaps a couple of minutes all was still save 
for a slight sound coming from within the waggon 
cover, then the head of Mike appeared at the opening. 

“Hist! Be careful,” he whispered. “I’ve got what 
feels like th’ old man’s money-chist,” and he reached 
out a hand holding a small iron-bound box about a foot 
long and eight inches deep. 

Tom took a step nearer and lifted up his hands for 
the box; but just as his fingers were about to close 
around its handle, he uttered a wild yell of terror and 
leaped up into the air with something black clinging to 
his legs, while a shrill, childish voice began screaming : 
“Thieves! Thieves! Help! Help, massah! I’s done 
cotched one ! Help ! I’s ” 

With an oath Tom bent and struck furiously with 
clenched fist at the black thing clinging to his legs, and 
then as he felt the small arms relax, he gave the body 
a violent kick, and mumbling angry oaths dashed 
away as fast as an unusually long pair of legs could 
take him. 


[ 104] 


The Black Spots in the Darkness 

Mike dropped the chest and tumbled out of the 
waggon so quickly that he landed on his head, jumped 
to his feet, and rushed after his fleeing partner, fol- 
lowed by chunks of lead from Mr. Judson’s pistols. 
In two minutes both men had disappeared in the sur- 
rounding darkness of the night. 

For a minute the pistol shots were followed by si- 
lence. Then dogs began barking from every direction; 
men tumbled out of their blankets or waggons or tents, 
and shouting inquiries ran in the direction of the shots; 
children and women screamed; and in two minutes the 
whole encampment in the vicinity of Mr. Judson’s wag- 
gon was in a wild turmoil of excitement. 

Ray and Arthur, aroused from sound sleep by the 
cries of the negro boy, quickly followed by the shots 
from Mr. Judson’s pistols, jumped to their feet, for the 
moment too startled and confused to understand what 
had happened, but certain that something terrible was 
going on. They saw Mr. Judson rushing off into the 
darkness back of the waggon, his smoking pistols in his 
hands, and both started on the run after him, calling, 
“ What is it? ” ** What is the matter? ” in voices shrill 
with excitement. After running a few rods they met 
Mr. Judson returning from his fruitless chase. 

“ Two pesky sneak thieves trying to steal things 
from the waggon,” he replied in answer to their breath- 
less inquiries. “ Now let us see if they got away with 
anything,” and he hurried toward the waggon. 

Mildred and her mother, like Ray and Arthur, had 
both been sound asleep when the shrill yells of 
Scoot and the shots of Mr. Judson had startled the 
quiet of the night. Mrs. Judson jumped from her cot 
and stood listening for a few minutes, trembling with 
[105] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

apprehension, while Mildred, shivering with fright, 
clung tightly to her. Then she caught up a heavy 
shawl, and throwing it over her shoulders, went to the 
tent opening. 

“Jed, Jed Judson!” she called. “What has hap- 
pened? Who is shot? Where are you? ” and then catch- 
ing sight of Mr. Judson and the two boys just as they 
were about to approach the waggon to see if the thieves 
had stolen anything, she rushed from the tent to her 
husband’s side. 

“ Shucks, Cat, ’twon’t nothing but a couple of sneak 
thieves trying to make a haul out of the waggon,” Mr. 
Judson reassured his trembling wife. “ I got a couple 
of shots at one of them, but I reckon I didn’t hit him. 
Now you and Mildred get back into your tent before 
the reception begins. You know you are not dressed for 
company, and — ” But Mrs. Judson and Mildred, 
catching sight of the men running toward them from 
every direction, were already seeking the shelter of 
their tent as fast as their feet could take them. 

In a moment Mr. Judson and Ray and Arthur found 
themselves surrounded by a crowd of excited men, all 
demanding to know the meaning of the cries and the 
shots ; and when Mr. Judson told them how an attempt 
had been made to rob his waggon, there were many 
threats of the most dire punishment should the thieves 
be captured; for all felt that in a situation where the 
protection of doors and locks were impossible, the most 
severe penalties for thieving were absolutely necessary 
for the safeguarding of their property. 

“ Jed,” and Mrs. Judson, who by this time had 
dressed and, accompanied by Mildred, had hurried 
back to the side of her husband, caught hold of Mr. 

[ 106 ] 


The Black Spots in the Darkness 

Judson’s arm, “ I heard a child’s voice a moment be- 
fore the pistol shots, and ” 

“ Great Scott, so there was ! and it was that voice 
that awoke me,” Mr. Judson broke in excitedly. “ I 
reckon we owe that child something, for if it had not 
been for him the robbers would have had their own 
way. But what child could it have been? and what has 
become of him? I — Quick, get the lantern from the 
tent, Ray. I fear harm has come to the poor little fel- 
low,” and Mr. Judson’s face whitened. “ I remember 
now his cries stopped sudden, as if something had hit 
him. He must be near the waggon,” and he began anx- 
iously searching about on the ground, aided by the 
others, but it was not until Ray had brought the lan- 
tern that they found the little black body stretched out 
under the front end of the waggon. 

“ Why, it’s Scoot ! ” and Ray, who had been the first 
to catch sight of the boy’s face, almost dropped the 
lantern in his surprise and horror. “ It’s Scoot, and he’s 
dead!” 

Dead, nothing,” and Mr. Judson bent quickly, and 
picking the boy up in his arms, started with him for 
the tent. “ Come on. Cat, and we’ll bring the little tike 
to his senses in a jiffy. He’s only been stunned by a hard 
rap over the head,” and followed by Mrs. Judson, he 
disappeared through the tent opening, bidding Ray and 
Arthur and Mildred to stand guard outside and keep 
the crowd back. 

“ Oh, I do hope Scoot isn’t hurt much! ” Mildred 
said to Ray. “ Do you think he is? ” 

“ No,” Ray replied. “ I saw him open his eyes just 
as your dad carried him into the tent. He’ll be as good 
as ever in no time. ’Twould take more than one rap on 

[ 107] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the head to do much damage to a negro’s skull. There, 
what did I tell you? ” 

At this moment, as if in justification of Ray’s asser- 
tions, Mr. Judson pushed aside the tent flap and 
stepped out, leading Scoot with one hand and holding 
the lantern in the other. 

“ Sound as a dollar and as able to eat a good square 
meal as ever, aren’t you, Scoot? ” and Mr. Judson held 
the lantern so that its light showed the little negro boy 
clearly to all. 

“ Yes, sah,” answered Scoot, grinning. “ I is pow’ful 
hungry. ’Pears like I nebber done get ’nuf to eat.” 

The men laughed; and satisfied that no great harm 
had been done the negro boy, and that now it would 
be useless to look for the thieves, returned to their own 
camps and beds, leaving our friends and Scoot once 
more alone. 

“ Now, Mildred, you get right back into bed and to 
sleep again, just as quick as you can get them bright 
eyes of yours shut. Scoot will bunk with me and the 
boys, and in the morning I am going to appoint you a 
committee of one to see that this little black tike gets 
just all the feed he can stuff down himself. He’s earnt 
it,” and Mr. Judson caught Mildred up in his arms, 
gave her a kiss, and tossed her, laughing and protesting 
that she wasn’t a bit sleepy, through the tent opening. 

“ Now, boys, we’ll get back to our downy couches, 
and mind, no talking. We’ll leave that for the morning. 
Come on. Scoot, you’ll need a blanket,” and Mr. Jud- 
son, followed by the black boy, went to the waggon and 
got out a blanket for him. 

Ray and Arthur returned to their blankets by the 
camp-fire. Scoot rolled himself up in his blanket and 
[ 1 


The Black Spots in the Darkness 

laid down under the waggon, and Mr. Judson, after 
having assured himself that nothing of any value had 
been taken from the waggon, threw a fresh armful of 
wood on the fire so that it blazed up brightly, and 
spreading out his blanket on the ground near the wag- 
gon, stretched himself out on it and was soon slumber- 
ing soundly, confident that there would be no more 
thieving in the vicinity of his waggon that night. 


[ 109] 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 


SCOOT’s “ FREE PAPAHS ” 

T he sun had but just begun to brighten the 
Eastern skies when Jedidiah Judson threw off 
his blanket, stretched his long arms and legs, 
and jumped to his feet. There were many things to be 
done that day, and to do them all he needed an early 
start. Ray and Arthur were still sound asleep, and 
under the waggon Scoot was snoring noisily. 

“ Poor little tike I ” and Mr. Judson stood for a mo- 
ment looking down contemplatively on the little negro 
boy. “ I reckon life don’t mean much to him except just 
to get enough to eat. Well, he shall have all he can stuff 
inside of him for once in his life, if it gives him colic 
for a month afterward. He deserves it. ’Twas a mighty 
good thing for me — Good Lordl ” Mr. Judson’s eyes 
had just caught sight of the little iron-bound chest that 
one of the thieves had dropped, which lay partly hid- 
den by one of the front wheels of the waggon, and had 
not been seen in the darkness and hurry of the previous 
search, and his face whitened, and he bent quickly and 
caught the chest up and examined it carefully, even un- 
locking it and looking at its contents. 

“ Well, Jedidiah Judson,” he said half aloud but 
with great emphasis, “ you are a consummate fool, and 
don’t deserve such luck as this, to go and leave that 
money-box where any pesky thief could lay hands on it 
[ no] 


Scoofs "'Free Papahs"" 

the moment he was inside the waggon! Every blessed 
cent that I and the boys have in the world, too I And the 
rascals would have got away with it easy if it hadn’t 
been for that black little beggar 1 ” and he glanced 
toward the sleeping negro lad. “ Yes, you’re a consum- 
mate idiot, Jedidiah Judson,” and carefully holding the 
chest in one hand, he began climbing into the waggon, 
still muttering imprecations on his carelessness in thus 
leaving the treasury exposed. When in the waggon he 
moved aside a trunk that stood near the centre of the 
waggon-box, knelt down on the bottom of the box, and 
pressed his finger on the head of the sixth nail, counting 
from the right-hand side of the waggon in a row of 
nails that here crossed the box bottom. At the pressure 
of his finger a board a trifle longer and wider than the 
length and width of the chest slid back, showing a 
secret receptacle just large enough to securely hold the 
money-box. Mr. Judson at once slipped the box into 
this hiding-place, slid the board back, replaced the 
trunk over it, and climbed out of the waggon. 

No one but himself and Mrs. Judson knew of this 
secret treasury vault in the bottom of the waggon-box, 
for the chest contained nearly twenty-five thousand dol- 
lars, all of Mr. Judson’s wealth and the few dollars left 
of the boys’ money, and it was not thought best to let 
the children know anything about this large sum, or 
where the chest was kept, lest thoughtlessly they might 
sometime give a hint of its existence to others, which 
would be all that was needed to make it the prey of 
every thieving rascal between there and California. 

Mr. Judson had taken the chest out of its hiding- 
place the day before to count the money, and being 
suddenly called away while still at the counting, he had 
[III] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

thrown a blanket over the chest, intending to return at 
once and complete the reckoning, and then in the hurry 
and excitement he had forgotten all about the exposed 
money-box until he saw it lying on the ground by the 
side of the waggon-wheel. In his hasty examination of 
the waggon after the attempted robbery he had seen 
that the trunk stood directly over the hiding-place, and 
had taken it for granted that the treasure lay safely 
concealed beneath it. 

This will explain to you why the sight of the chest 
lying on the ground gave Mr. Judson so great a fright, 
and why he considered it necessary to tell Jedidiah Jud- 
son what a “ consummate fool ” he was. 

From the waggon Mr. Judson went direct to where 
Ray and Arthur lay side by side near the smouldering 
camp-fire. 

“ Time everybody was up I Turn out I ” and catching 
hold of a blanket with each hand, he gave a sudden 
strong pull, and sent both sleeping lads rolling out of 
their blankets. 

“All right! Tm coming! — Oh! — Where — where 
am I ? ” and Ray jumped to his feet, rubbing his eyes 
and staring blankly around him, followed by Arthur, 
who for the moment was equally mystified by his sud- 
den transition from the land of dreams to the prairies 
of the West. 

“ Well, I reckon you are standing on the green sod 
of the prairie, bound for the gold mines of California,” 
and Jed Judson laughed. “ Now both of you go to the 
creek and wash the sleep out of your eyes. This is our 
busy day.” 

“ Sure, and I thought I was back at old Thompson’s, 
and he was pulling me out of my bed. It’s good to wake 

[ II2 ] 


S coot's "'Free Papahs" 

up from such a dream and find myself here,” and Ray 
laughed joyously. “ Come on, Art,” and he started on 
the run for the creek with Arthur racing by his side. 

“ I’ll let the little beggar sleep,” and Mr. Judson 
looked toward the black bundle of rags curled up under 
the waggon. “ ’Twas a mighty good turn he did you, 
Jedidiah Judson, last night, a mighty good turn; and 
don’t you forget it. No, sirree, don’t you forget it, 
Jed Judson,” and he started off in the direction of the 
oxen to see if everything was all right with the cattle. 

When the boys came back from helping Mr. Judson 
with the cattle (they had gone from the creek to the 
oxen), they found a fire crackling merrily in the stove 
and Mildred and her mother already busy with the 
breakfast. 

“ Now, Dimples,” and Mr. Judson laid a hand ca- 
ressingly on Mildred’s head, “ you just do your level 
best to see that Scoot gets the biggest and best feed he 
ever had in his life. We all owe the black little imp a 
lot for what he did last night, and I reckon a big feed 
will come about as nigh as anything to convincing him 
of our gratitude. I’ll rout out the little beggar,” and 
he turned toward the waggon where Scoot was still 
snoring. 

“ Breakfast! Time to eat! Get up! ” and Mr. Jud- 
son seized hold of one end of the blanket on which 
Scoot was lying and pulled him out from under the 
waggon. 

The negro boy rolled over, rubbed his two black 
fists into his eyes, caught sight of Mr. Judson, and 
jumped to his feet. 

“ Golly! ” and he began backing off, keeping wary 
eyes on Mr. Judson, doubtless remembering the long 

[ 113 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

whip-lash that had cracked so near his ears, “ dis nig- 
gah done dis’member to wake up fo’ shuah! I’s,” and 
his face brightened as he caught sight of Mildred, “ I’s 
done gwine to get de lil gal a pail ob watah. Dat’s what 
fo’ I’s har. Whar am dat watah-pail? ” and he looked 
around, his eyes rolling and his lips twisting in the most 
comical manner. 

“ Well, Scoot,” and Mr. Judson smiled genially, 
“ you did us all a mighty good turn last night when 
you scart off them thieves, and we are going to celebrate 
it this morning by giving you the biggest feed you ever 
had in all your born days.” 

“ And mamma and I think you were real brave,” 
Mildred broke in, “ to cry out when you must have 
known the wicked men would hurt you, and they did 
hurt you awful, ’cause when I first saw you I thought 
you were dead; and now papa is your friend and won’t 
crack you any more with his long whip, will you, 
papa? ” 

“ Not another crack,” Mr. Judson answered heart- 
ily. “ And here’s my hand on it. Shake,” and he held 
out his hand to Scoot, who, with his mouth stretched 
into a grin that threatened to engulf his entire face and 
eyes rolling back and forth from the face of Mildred 
to the face of her father, had stood balancing himself 
first on one chubby black foot, then on the other, while 
Mr. Judson and Mildred were speaking. 

For a moment Scoot hesitated, and then disregard- 
ing Mr. Judson’s extended hand, he marched straight 
up to Mildred and timidly thrust out his hand to her. 

“ I done cotch Massah Tom Pike ’round de legs an’ 
yell,” he said proudly, “ ’cause he was gwine thieving 
in yo’ waggon, an’ yo’ was good to dis niggah, an’ den 

[114] 


Scoofs "'Free Papahs"^ 

he hit me, an’ I done know no mo’ ’bout de thieving. 
Did yo’ done cotch him?” and he dropped the hand 
that Mildred had given him and turned toward Mr. 
Judson. 

“ Was one of them pesky thieves your old master? ” 
and Mr. Judson hurried to the side of the negro boy. 
“ And do you know where he’s camped? ” and the lines 
on his face hardened and his blue eyes glinted. 

“ Sho’, dat was Massah Tom Pike, him what I 
cotched ’round de legs. I done know his voice an’ de 
feel ob his fist. Massah Tom Pike hab a berry hard 
fist,” and Scoot felt cautiously of the bump that stood 
out like a black egg on the top of his head. “ He am 
camped ober yondah,” and Scoot pointed northward to 
where a small hill rose above the level of the prairie, 
“ jes’ ober de top ob de hill.” 

“ Scoot, you are a jewel, a black diamond,” and Mr. 
Judson patted the kinky top of his head. “ Now go to 
the creek and scrub some of the dirt off your face and 
hands, and get yourself ready for a heap big eat, as our 
Indian friends would say. After the feed you and I will 
go over and interview your ‘ Massah ’ Tom Pike. I 
have something very particular to say to him,” and Mr. 
Judson’s firm lips hardened into two straight lines. 
“ Here, Ray, you and Arthur go with him. He’ll need 
help if he ever gets that face and hands clean.” 

The boys laughed, and catching hold of Scoot, one 
on each side, started on the run with him for the creek, 
his stubby figure bobbing up and down between them 
something like a huge rubber ball. 

Cat,” Mr. Judson said, as he walked over to where 
his wife was busy at the stove cooking the breakfast, 
“ I want a few minutes’ private confabulation with you, 

[115] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

so just send Mildred into the tent to do something that 
will keep her busy for about ten minutes.” 

Mrs. Judson smiled, and calling Mildred, told her to 
go and tidy up the tent. ‘‘ And be sure you open the 
windows wide and air the room and the bedclothing 
good,” she warned laughingly as Mildred hurried 
away to obey her instructions. “ Now, Jed,” and she 
turned a smiling face to her husband. 

Mr. Judson stepped up close to the side of his wife, 
and for ten minutes the two talked in low voices of 
Scoot and the attempted robbery, and of how they 
could best reward the little negro boy for the great ser- 
vice he had done them. 

The breakfast that followed was one long to be re- 
membered. Scoot, who had been brought back from the 
creek with a face shining like polished ebony, had a 
‘‘ table ” all to himself, and three laughing waiters — 
Mildred and the two boys — to supply him with the 
good things Mrs. Judson had cooked, and he kept 
the waiters busy. 

“ His stomach must be made out of India-rubber 
with an unlimited stretch,” Ray laughed as the three 
met at the stove. 

“ Or else he’s got a self-condenser attachment war- 
ranted to condense anything it gets hold of to a one- 
hundredth part of its original bigness,” Arthur sug- 
gested, by way of solving the mystery. “ I am sure I 
have brought him almost a bushel of grub already, and 
he’s still looking for more.” 

“ Perhaps he’s hollow like my black rubber doll,” 
Mildred ventured, her eyes twinkling and her cheeks 
dimpling. “ But oh, isn’t it great fun just to see him 
eat? He looks and acts as if it tasted so good.” 

[ii6] 


Scoofs Free Papahs " 

However, there is a limit to the capacity of even an 
India-rubber, self-condensing, hollow-rubber-doll sort 
of a stomach, as Scoot discovered to his very evident 
disgust, when with a mighty sigh and both hands 
clasped tightly over his distended belly, he was com- 
pelled to decline the third big piece of lemon pie, prof- 
fered to him as a sort of anticlimax to the real climax 
of the meal which he had reached through the pleasant 
mediums of hot porridge and milk and meat and po- 
tatoes. 

“ I’s done completely stufficated,” he remarked sol- 
emnly, with eyes fixed longingly on the piece of pie, and 
tears trickling down his shining black cheeks, tears of 
blissful satisfaction. “ I done nebber hab ’nuf to eat 
befo’ all ter once, an’ I nebber ’spected to ’til I done got 
to hebben; but I sho’ is filled up now, an’ can’t no how 
’nosticate dat pie.” Scoot rejoiced in a unique vocabu- 
lary of big-sounding words, which he used with an utter 
disregard of their dictionary meaning and pronunciation 
wherever their sound seemed to him to fit in all right. 

“ Now I reckon I’ll just have a look at them free 
papers of yours, Scoot,” Mr. Judson said, when at last 
the boy had thus finished his breakfast to his own en- 
tire satisfaction and the amazed amusement of his new 
friends, “ and see what sort of a deal Mr. Tom Pike 
has dealt you.” 

“ Yes, sah,” and Scoot struggled to his feet, and 
thrusting a hand under his ragged shirt, brought out a 
legal-looking folded paper. “ I’s a free niggah, an’ har 
am my free papahs,” and he handed the paper to Mr. 
Judson. 

Mr. Judson took the paper, opened it, glanced at its 
contents, and laughed. 

[117] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ I thought it was some game like this,” he said. 
“ Now listen to Scoot’s free papers,” and he read: 

“To Whom It May Concern: 

“Know ye that I, Thomas Richard Pike, late of the State of Ken- 
tucky and now of that God-forsaken hole of perdition on the ragged 
edge of civilisation known as Independence, being of sound mind, 
and about to start for the gold mines of California, and wishing to 
get rid of all useless, unsalable truck, do freely give the bearer, a 
worthless, lying, thieving, lazy, not-worth-his-salt, always-hungry, 
black negro boy, eleven years old, responding to the name of Scoot, 
the last of my patrimony, to any one who will take him, on the sole 
and only condition that the receiver of this black skin-full-of-trouble 
bestows upon the said negro boy. Scoot, every morning and every 
evening of every day of every year that the said Scoot is in his or her 
possession a severe whipping. 

“Any failure to comply with this condition on any morning or 
any night of any day of any year while this contract is in force, will 
render this agreement null and void, and restore all the original in- 
herited and vested rights in the said negro boy. Scoot, to his original 
owner, the donor, Thomas Richard Pike. 

“Signed. Thomas Richard Pike.’* 

“ There, that is how your free papers read. Scoot,” 
Mr. Judson laughed, as he refolded the paper and 
thrust it into his own pocket. “ And according to it if 
I keep you, I will be obliged to give you a good thrash- 
ing every night and morning. What do you think about 
it. Scoot? Will you be my nigger boy? or will you try 
to find some one with less muscular arms? I am power- 
ful good on the licking,” and Mr. Judson pushed up the 
sleeve of his right arm, displaying its brawny muscles. 

“Am dat lickin’ down on dat papah?” Scoot in- 
quired, beginning to back off and eyeing Mr. Judson 
suspiciously. “ An’ must I take a whalin’ ebbry morn- 
ing an’ ebbry night?” 


[ii8] 


Scoots ''Free Papahs'’ 

“ Yes, that is what the paper says,” Mr. Judson re- 
plied. “You must take the licking or go back to your 
old master.” 

For a minute or two Scoot stood in perplexed inde- 
cision, his eyes rolling from Mr. Judson’s muscular arm 
to the remains of the bountiful breakfast he had just 
eaten, his black forehead corrugated with thought wrin- 
kles, and one hand scratching his kinky head. Suddenly 
his face brightened and he straightened up resolutely. 

“ Massah Tom Pike done gib me a lickin’ ’most 
ebbry day anyhow, an’ he done nebber feed me like 
dat,” and Scoot glanced toward the empty dishes. “ Fs 
gwine to stay where I gits de feed. I’s gwine to be yo’ 
niggah boy. I spec’lates dem lickin’s sho’ly do dis nig- 
gah good, ’cause I’s a little black limb ob sin,” and 
Scoot puckered up his lips so dolefully and rolled his 
eyes so ludicrously that even Mrs. Judson laughed. 

“ Bully for you. Scoot ! A licking on a full stomach 
is certainly better than a licking on an empty stomach. 
But I reckon I can persuade Mr. Tom Pike to cut them 
lickings out,” and the lines on Mr. Judson’s face hard- 
ened, “ if you will take me to him. Now,” and Mr. 
Judson turned to Ray and Arthur, “ you boys stay 
right here and watch the waggon and the cattle, and 
help Cat all that you can until we get back. Come on. 
Scoot. I am right anxious for that interview with your 
‘ Massah ’ Tom Pike,” and Mr. Judson, with Scoot 
trotting along by his side, started off in the direction of 
the hill, “ jes’ ober de top ” of which Scoot had in- 
formed him he would find the camp of Mr. Tom Pike. 


[ 119 ] 


CHAPTER TWELVE 


TOM PIKE 

T he distance to the hill toward which Mr. Jud- 
son and Scoot were making their way was 
something like a mile, and the way thither 
led directly through the encampment of the gold-seek- 
ers, who were busy with their early morning work. 
Camp-fires were being replenished, cook-stoves were 
sen-^ing up columns of smoke, frowsy men and women 
and children were moving hither and thither about the 
tents and waggons and camp-fires, or carrying water 
in pails from the creek, while it seemed as if an almost 
countless number of dogs ran about barking and yelp- 
ing. All were good-natured, even the dogs, and many 
were the laughing gibes called after the oddly assorted 
couple, as Mr. Judson’s long legs and ScooPs short 
ones carried them through the encampment. At length 
they reached the hill, and when they stood on its sum- 
mit, Scoot pointed to a dilapidated-looking tent some 
ten rods farther on, pitched near an equally dilapi- 
dated-looking waggon. Evidently the owners were not 
in a very flourishing financial condition. 

“ Dat am Massah Tom Pike’s tent,” he said. “ I 
’spects he am asleep. He am a scan’lous sleepah. Neb- 
ber done git up ’til ’most dinnah-time.” 

“ Well, he’ll get up now,” Mr. Judson said, striding 
[ 120 ] 


Tom Pike 

toward the tent, and at the same time placing his right 
hand on the butt of his revolver and hitching it forward 
to where he could get at it quickly if there were need. 

“ Dar he am ! Dat am he I ” Scoot whispered excit- 
edly as a man stuck his head out of the tent opening 
when they were a couple of rods away, glanced fur- 
tively about, caught sight of Mr. Judson and Scoot, 
glared for a moment questioningly at them, and then 
stepped out of his tent. 

Mr. Tom Pike was a tall, slenderly built man, with 
a ragged black beard covering the lower part of his 
face, above which glowed a pair of red-lidded black 
eyes beneath overhanging arches of black, scraggly eye- 
brows. The skin beneath the beard showed red and 
bloated. A high, white, intellectual-looking forehead 
was the sole redeeming feature of a face that showed 
only too plainly how completely its owner had stifren- 
dered himself to the viler passions — drink and its foul 
brood of attendant evils. Evidently Mr. Tom Pike 
had but just crawled out of his blankets, for his hair 
and beard had not even received a combing from his 
fingers, and his trousers hung by one suspender — he 
wore no coat — and his shirt still had the bed-wrinkles 
in it. 

“ Scoot, you black imp of sin,” he called out, scowl- 
ing fiercely and taking no notice of Mr. Judson, “didn’t 
I tell you if you ever showed up again Pd paint that 
black back of yours red? And now I am going to do it 
unless you light out of here as if the devil were after 
you,” and reaching inside the tent, he caught up a 
heavy rawhide whip and started toward Scoot. 

Scoot grinned, and jumping quickly behind Mr. Jud- 
son, made faces at his wrathful old master. 

[ I2I ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ The boy just came along to show me where you 
camped,” Mr. Judson said quietly, stepping in front 
of the angry man. “ And I reckon you won’t need any 
whip to-day, so you’d better toss it back into the tent. 
I came to talk with you about that boy Scoot.” 

“Oh, you did, did you?” Tom Pike inquired sar- 
castically, stopping and facing Mr. Judson. “ Well, 
that worthless black skinful of lazy bones ain’t worth 
your breath, so you can go back again. I ain’t hankering 
none for your company,” and the red face scowled 
while the restless black eyes glanced furtively at Mr. 
Judson. 

“ And,” continued Mr. Judson blandly, “ I came to 
get this negro boy’s free papers.” 

“Came to get Scoot’s free papers!” and the man 
burst into a loud laugh. “ Came to get Scoot’s free 
papers! Did you hear that, Mike?” and he turned 
toward the tent. “ Come out and have a look at the big- 
gest darn fool in this big encampment of fools. Now,” 
and he turned to Mr. Judson again, “ just wait until 
my partner gets a sight of that fool face of yours, and 
then get out of here as fast as them long legs of yours 
can take you. This locality won’t be none healthy for a 
man of your physiognomy longer than about two min- 
utes.” It was plain to be seen that Mr. Tom Pike had 
not yet slept off the effects of his last night’s debauch, 
and that he was in a particular ugly humour. 

A volley of oaths came from within the tent, and 
then a short, thick-set man stepped out, gripping a rifle 
in his right hand and looking as savage as an angry 
bulldog. 

Mr. Judson had continued to approach, and he now 
stood only a few feet from the two men. He was still 
[ 122 ] 


Tom Pike 

smiling, but there was a dangerous glint in his blue 
eyes, and he held his body ready for instant action. 

“ Yes, I came for Scoot’s free papers, and you are 
going to give them to me without any more words,” 
he said, his voice hardening, “ or ” 

“ Now, Mike, ready,” interrupted Tom Pike, 
“ we’ll ” 

But Mr. Judson did not wait for the two half- 
drunken rowdies to spring upon him. With a quick 
step forward, he swung back his right arm, and his 
right fist shot out and struck Tom Pike a blow under 
the chin that sent him hurtling back against Mike and 
then stunned and senseless to the ground; and when 
Mike straightened himself up and got ready to act, he 
found himself looking into the muzzle of Mr. Judson’s 
revolver, and quickly concluded he would not act. 

“ Hand over that rifle, butt first! ” Mr. Judson com- 
manded. 

Mike handed him the rifle, and Mr. Judson tossed it 
a couple of rods away. 

“ Sit down I ” 

Mike sat down, his fascinated eyes never for an in- 
stant turning from the little round hole in the barrel 
of Mr. Judson’s revolver. 

By this time Tom Pike began to show signs of re- 
turning consciousness. Mr. Judson waited quietly, keep- 
ing the two rascals covered with his weapon until Tom 
Pike came to his senses sufficiently to understand the 
situation. Then he gave Tom Pike two minutes to de- 
cide whether he would give Scoot his freedom and 
leave the encampment or take the consequences of his 
attempt to rob his waggon last night, warning him that 
in the present temper of the emigrants a robber was 
[123] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

apt to receive scant mercy at their hands; that in all 
probability he would be dangling at the end of a rope 
within ten minutes after they got hold of him. 

Both men grew white, they knew only too well the 
truth of Mr. Judson’s assertions concerning the temper 
of the emigrants, glared viciously at Mr. Judson and 
his levelled weapon, and weakened. 

Two hours later Scoot was a legally free negro, with 
the papers testifying to that fact safely stowed away 
in Mr. Judson’s pocket; and Tom Pike and his partner, 
Mike, were driving away from Independence in their 
dilapidated old waggon, vowing that they would yet 
get even with Jedidiah Judson and that “ little black 
imp of perdition,” Scoot, before they reached the gold 
mines of California, and that they would yet have an- 
other try for that iron-bound chest, which Mike felt 
sure was full of money, for he had heard the jingle of 
the coins as the box struck the ground by the side of 
his head when he had tumbled from the waggon, so he 
said. But the results of the nefarious plannings of these 
two wicked men, as they rode out of Independence hot 
and vengeful, must be left for future narration. 


[ 124] 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 


AN ADVENTURE WITH A BAD MAN 

W HEN Mr. Judson and Scoot returned to the 
camp by the creek, Mildred and Ray and 
Arthur and even Mrs. Judson crowded 
eagerly around them, all anxious to learn the outcome 
of the interview with Tom Pike. 

Mr. Judson described the interview and its results; 
and then taking Scoot’s free papers out of his pocket, 
he presented them to him, telling him that now he was 
really and truly free and no longer a chattel that could 
be bought and sold like a bag of potatoes. 

“ I’s splendifrusly obligated to yo’, ’deed I is,” Scoot 
said, taking the papers, doubtless feeling that he 
needed his mightiest words to express the bigness of his 
obligation, and eyeing them curiously. “ I’s a free nig- 
gah now, an’ don’t belong to nobody no mo’, is I ? ” 
and his face began to sober and lengthen. 

Mr. Judson assured him that he was right. 

“ Den,” and the corners of his mouth dropped de- 
jectedly, “ I wants to know who am going to feed dis 
niggah.” 

“ I reckon you will have to get out and hustle for 
your own grub,” laughed Mr. Judson. “ That’s what 
all us free fellows have to do.” 

“ Oh, papa, now Scoot can go with us I He’s free,” 
[ 125 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Mildred broke in joyously. “ He’ll be so handy wash- 
ing dishes and carrying water and — and doing lots of 
other things.” 

“ Yes urn,” and Scoot’s eyes brightened, and he 
grinned all over his face at the thought of this pleasant 
solution of his difficulty, “ I’s done gwine to go wid 
yo’. I’s gwine to be yo’ lil niggah boy. Nebber done hab 
no such eatin’ befo’.” 

“ All right, Scoot. You can go with us,*’ Mr. Judson 
agreed genially. “ You did us all a mighty good turn 
last night, and Jed Judson is not the man to forget it; 
and Cat and I have concluded to give you your feed 
and clothing as long as you behave yourself as a decent 
negro should. But mind, there must be no shirking. 
You’ve got to work for your keep. So it’s ho for the 
gold mines of California now. Scoot! ” 

Ray and Arthur and Mildred shouted by way of 
welcoming this new recruit, Mrs. Judson smiled and 
nodded her head approvingly, and Scoot, flinging up 
his hands, gave a glad shout and began dancing a jig 
to a wild tune of his own humming; and in two minutes 
he had them all shrieking with laughter, so comical 
and varied were the expressions that jumped all over 
his face, and so funny were the motions of his odd little 
body and limbs. 

“ Now,” Mr. Judson said, when the twinkling black 
feet were still and the laughter had quieted down, “ get 
dinner as soon as you can. Cat, for I want to go to Inde- 
pendence this afternoon to get a lot of things that we’ll 
need ; and you two boys can go with me ” — and he 
turned to Ray and Arthur — “ to help lug the things 
back. I want to buy another yoke of oxen and a milch 
cow, too, if I run across the right kind of cattle. Three 
[126] 


An Adventure with a Bad Man 

yoke of oxen won’t be none too many to haul this wag- 
gon across the plains and over the mountains to Cali- 
fornia, and cow’s milk will taste mighty good when 
we’re out on the plains.” 

Accordingly, as soon as the noon-day meal had been 
eaten, Mr. Judson and Ray and Arthur set out on foot 
for Independence, which was a little over a mile from 
their camp on the prairie, and reached the crowded 
streets of the town about one o’clock. 

A multitude of shops had sprung up, almost like 
mushrooms in a single night, to supply the stream of 
gold-seekers that was constantly pouring into the place 
with necessaries for the long journey to far-off Cali- 
fornia, and about these places swarmed the emigrants 
with a great buzzing of excited talk, buying and selling 
and trading. Saloons and dance-halls and gambling 
resorts were everywhere, and everywhere they were 
crowded with men of all nationalities and of all grades 
and conditions of life. It looked almost as if Indepen- 
dence had become the dumping-ground of the nations, 
so varied were the nationalities there represented. The 
two great rivers, the Mississippi and the Missouri, 
reached out like two great hands not only across the 
United States, but also across the ocean, beckoning the 
adventurous, the idle, and the vicious of all nations to 
this New Eldorado, the gold mines of California; and 
they came in ship-loads from all parts of America and 
Europe, landing for the most part at Independence, 
there to attend to the final outfitting and to take their 
last long breath of civilisation before venturing the 
plains and deserts and mountains that lay between them 
and their Eldorado. 

Tall, gaunt, weather-beaten trappers and ‘‘ mountain 
[ 127] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

men,” dressed partly in skins and carrying long-bar- 
relled rifles, swarthy-faced Mexicans, cruel-eyed half- 
breeds, stolid, dirty-looking Indians, all equally native 
to that wild country and all staring sullenly and but 
half understandingly at this motley throng of alien 
peoples, stalked or glided, according to breed or na- 
ture, through the crowds and in and out of the shops 
and saloons, giving a picturesque colouring to the wild 
scene. 

The air was filled with a bedlam of sounds. Half- 
drunken men were yelling and singing and cursing and 
— sometimes — shooting. From the dance-halls came 
the sounds of lively music and the clatter of rough-shod 
feet on hard-board floors. Constant streams of wag- 
gons were creaking and rattling through the streets, 
many of them fresh arrivals on their way to swell the 
city of tents on the prairie beyond the town. The ring- 
ing thud of blacksmiths’ hammers came from innu- 
merable smithies, where outfits were being put in shape 
for the long, hard pilgrimage across the plains. Every- 
where was excitement and confusion and noise. 

Such was Independence in the summer of 1849, after 
the first great waves of excited gold-seekers had rolled 
into it, and broke, only to form again and roll on west- 
ward — resulting in the most important nation-building 
exodus in the history of the United States. 

No wonder that Ray and Arthur, as they followed 
Mr. Judson through the crowded streets, felt that all 
the world had gone gold mad and had started for Cali- 
fornia. 

“ And to think,” Arthur said, “ this is but one of 
many like starting points all along our Western fron- 
tier, while thousands of others are, doubtless, going to 
[128] 


An Adventure with a Bad Man 

the mines by way of the Pacific Ocean. Well, I hope 
there will be space enough left for us to swing our picks 
in when we get there — Hello! Look out there with 
that elbow! Pve got some feelings left,” and Arthur 
turned indignantly on a tall, slim young man who was 
roughly pushing his way through the crowd and had 
vigorously thrust the point of his elbow into the boy’s 
side. 

The man whirled partly around, glanced toward the 
boys, and the next instant had vanished in the crowd. 

“ Jee-my'-mee ! ” and Ray caught hold of Arthur’s 
shoulder. ‘‘ Did you see that face? Do you know who 
that was? That was the gambler Tom Rawlins knocked 
down on board the Queen of the Ohio! Do you suppose 
he recognised us? You know Tom Rawlins warned me 
to look out for him if we ever met again.” 

“ Yes, and I am sure he recognised you,” Arthur 
replied, “ for I saw an ugly look come into his face the 
instant he turned his eyes in our direction. I hope he 
isn’t bound for California. I wouldn’t like him for a 
travelling companion on the great lonely plains.” 

“ Well, I fancy Jedidiah Judson will be more than 
a match for him if he does show up,” Ray said. “ But 
hurry up. Art, or we’ll lose track of Mr. Judson in this 
mad crowd,” and closely followed by Arthur, he 
plunged after Mr. Judson, who was swiftly pushing 
his way toward the public square. 

At this time the principal business part of Indepen- 
dence was built up around a large public square, and 
consisted of a few brick structures and many wooden 
buildings, some of these latter being mere board shacks, 
hastily built by enterprising traders to catch the trade 
of the gold-seekers while it was at its flood. Mr. Judson 
[ 129 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

paused at the entrance to one of the brick buildings, 
a large general store where almost anything from a 
shoe-string to a prairie-schooner and a yoke of oxen 
could be bought, and turned to Ray and Arthur. 

“ Now, boys,” he said, “ I have many things to buy, 
and I reckon it won’t be none pleasant for you to stand 
around in this hot, crowded store while I am doing the 
buying, so if you like you can just roam around this 
square seeing things for about an hour. I’ll be inside, or 
waiting for you here near the door.” 

“ All right,” both boys responded with alacrity, for 
the crowded store certainly did look hot and uninviting, 
“ we will take a look around and be back long before 
the hour is up.” 

“ If you see any trouble, don’t you go butting your 
heads into it,” Mr. Judson laughed as he stepped 
through the door and passed into the shop. 

Ray and Arthur had no fear of trouble, for each 
felt abundantly able of taking care of himself, even in 
such a wild crowd as this, and eagerly pushed hither 
and thither among the men, seeing something to amuse 
or interest them at every step, and thus slowly made 
their way around the square. At the entrance to one of 
the side streets, almost directly across the square from 
the store Mr. Judson had entered, they came upon a 
great crowd of men standing in front of a saloon, and 
evidently enjoying themselves hugely, for there was 
much loud laughter and shouting. 

“ Seems to be something doing here. Let’s see what 
it is,” Ray said, pushing his way into the jam of men, 
with Arthur close at his back. 

Both boys were anxious to see the fun if there was 
any, but so compact was the throng of men that they 

[ 130] 


An Adventure with a Bad Man 

could not discover the cause of the merriment until 
they had thrust their way quite through the crowd and 
stood in the inner edge of the circle that surrounded the 
saloon door. Then they saw a tall, broad-shouldered, 
red-faced, roughly dressed man, with small, snake-like 
eyes and a long, fierce-looking moustache, standing in 
the open doorway of the saloon. He held a revolver in 
his left hand and a long whip in his right. Evidently he 
was a character of some note, for all present seemed to 
admire and fear him, and he talked as if he owned the 
whole show. Besides, as it was plain to be seen by his 
flushed face and fiery eyes, he was ugly drunk and look- 
ing for trouble. There was a small open space in front 
of him, and near the middle of this stood a white-faced 
young Englishman whose limbs trembled so they could 
scarcely support him. 

“ My, but he’s a tough-looking customer, isn’t he? ” 
Arthur whispered, staring at the man with the revolver 
and the whip. “ I wonder what he has been doing and 
why that young fellow in front of him looks so scart? ” 

But Arthur’s wonder was of short duration, for at 
that moment the beady black eyes of the man caught 
sight of him and Ray. 

“ My dear young friends,” he cried, taking a step 
toward Ray and Arthur, “ I am most happy to see you. 
You are just in time. Our young friend,” and he waved 
his hand toward the trembling Englishman, “ has be- 
come wearied, and we will give him a rest while you 
two young men take his place and delight our eyes with 
your Terpsichorean accomplishments. Now come and 
shake hands and allow me to introduce you to my 
friends and fellow-citizens, and then we’ll on with the 
dance. Let joy be unconfined I ” and quickly slipping his 

[ 131 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

revolver back into its holster and the butt of his whip 
under his belt, he stepped up to Ray and Arthur, and 
catching each one by the hand, jerked them out into the 
middle of the open space before either of the aston- 
ished boys knew what was happening to him; and then 
dropping their hands, he jumped back, jerked out his 
revolver and the whip, swung the whip high in the air, 
and brought it down with cruel force around the legs 
of the two startled boys. 

“ Dance! Dance! ” shouted the man. 

Ray and Arthur, with a howl of surprise and pain, 
bounded into the air, while the rough crowd around 
them yelled and laughed. 

“ Dance ! Dance ! ” and the man again swung his 
whip in the air. “ Higher! Higher! More lively there! 
Shake your feet ! Stamp the ground ! Higher ! Higher 1 
Dance ! ” and at each command the long lash of the 
whip cracked about their heels. 

And how Ray and Arthur did dance! In fact they 
did not dare to do anything else, for they feared the re- 
volver in the drunken brute’s hand even more than they 
did the whip. 

Suddenly there was a commotion in the yelling, hoot- 
ing crowd around them, and a great giant of a fellow 
shoved his way through the jam of men, and sprang 
in front of the man with the whip, who was having such 
great fun with the boys that he failed to notice his ap- 
proach. 

‘‘ Drop that whip and revolver ! ” he commanded, 
at the same time levelling his own revolver at the 
bully’s head. 

The bully whirled about, caught sight of the levelled 
revolver and the stern, resolute face back of it, and 

[ 132 ] 


An Adventure with a Bad Man 

dropped the whip and the revolver as if they were red- 
hot irons. 

“ Now, since you’ve been having a whole lot of fun 
with these two boys, it won’t be no more than right 
that you should turn about and let the boys have a lot 
of fun with you. Jump upon the top of that barrel,” 
and the man pointed with his left hand to a large, 
empty whisky barrel standing in front of the saloon. 

The bully hesitated. 

“ Jump I Jump quick I ” and the man sent a ball from 
his revolver through the top of the bully’s hat so close 
to his head that it shaved the hair off. 

The bully jumped, and stood on top of the whisky 
barrel with legs trembling so that he could hardly stand 
upright. 

“ Now,” and the man turned to Ray and Arthur, 
who with glad cries of recognition had sprang to the 
side of the big fellow the moment they heard his voice, 
“ you boys take that whip and make that big bully 
dance a jig on the top of that barrel after the same man- 
ner he made you. And mind that you lay it on good. 
He’s tough, and you’ll have to hit hard to make him 
feel it. Now larrup him for all you are worth. I’ll see 
that he dances proper,” and he smiled grimly, keeping 
his revolver levelled at the trembling man on the barrel. 

“Oh, Tom Rawlins, you’re an angel!” Arthur ex- 
claimed. “ I was never so glad to see anybody in my 
life!” 

“ Well, that’s the first time anybody ever took me 
for an angel,” laughed Tom Rawlins. “ But I reckon 
you boys was mighty glad to see me. Now just get busy 
with that whip. I’m some anxious to see them long legs 
get some quick moves on them.” 

[ 133 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“You’re a brick!” Ray said, quickly catching up 
the whip. “ But now I want to give that — that scoun- 
drel a dose of his own medicine and see how he likes 
it,” and he swung the whip above his head while his 
jaws came together tightly and his eyes hardened. 

“ Dance 1 Dance, you long-legged villain 1 Dance 1 ” 
he cried, as the stinging lash, driven by all the strength 
in his vigorous young arm, curled around the legs of 
the man on the barrel, who with howls of pain and rage 
and fear danced a jig that would have made a dancing- 
master’s eyes open wide with astonishment. 

“Faster! Faster! Higher! Higher!” yelled Ray, 
warming up with his effort, and the remembrance of 
the bitter stings of the lash around his own legs. 
“Shake your feet! Stamp the barrel head! Higher! 
Higher! Faster! Faster! ” and with each command the 
lash cracked around the jumping legs. 

The crowd of men almost went crazy with delight. 
This was the kind of poetic justice that appealed es- 
pecially to them. They yelled and shouted their encour- 
agement and approval, and danced like howling der- 
vishes around the actors in this lively comedy. 

Then suddenly the scene changed. The much-abused 
barrel head gave way, and down into the barrel with 
startling swiftness shot the dancer. 

The street at this point inclined steeply downward, 
the barrel standing almost at the summit of the inclina- 
tion; and before the long legs could extricate them- 
selves from the surrounding staves, some one in the 
crowd yelled : “ Let’s give him a free ride down the 
hill!” 

The yell was almost instantly followed by the rush 
of a dozen or more men who tipped the barrel over, 

[ 134] 



“Dance! Dance, You Long-legged Villain! Dance!’’ 





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l^ V ■ 






An Adventure with a Bad Man 

the bully still within It, whirled It about, and shouting 
and laughing like schoolboys gone mad on a frolic, 
kicked and rolled and pushed the barrel down the hill 
until its own momentum sent It whirling swiftly down 
the steep street, the man yelling and cursing within It; 
and then, to add to the wild gaiety of the scene, the 
crowd began firing off their revolvers in the direction 
of the spinning barrel. 

In the meantime the man In the barrel was having 
an exceedingly exciting time of it. The barrel was of 
the old-fashioned kind with wooden hoops, and the 
nails that held the hoops in place had never been driven 
in with the expectation that any one would take a ride 
down a hill in the barrel, and they protruded a half 
an Inch or more Inside. The result on the anatomy of 
the unfortunate victim of his own brutality can be Im- 
agined and needs not to be described. 

Near the bottom of the hill the barrel struck a stone 
and went to pieces. The man, with the clothing nearly 
torn off his body and bleeding from a thousand nail- 
scratches, jumped to his feet, glared wildly around him, 
and started on a bee-line for his horse, which was fas- 
tened a couple of rods away; and In less than two min- 
utes he was leaving Independence behind him as fast 
as his horse could shake the dust off his hoofs. 

“ Well I reckon that’s worse than riding a stiff- 
legged bucking bronco,” and Mr. Judson, who had 
pushed his way through the crowd In time to see a part 
of the performance, pointed toward the smashed bar- 
rel. “ Didn’t I tell you young rascals not to go a-butting 
your heads into any trouble?” and he turned to Ray 
and Arthur, a broad smile on his face; “and here I 
find you in clean up to your necks and only saved by 

[ 135 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

being snatched out, as it were, by the hair of the head 
by the big hand of Tom Rawlins. Glad to see you, 
Tom,” and Mr. Judson turned and gave the great 
hand of Tom Rawlins a hearty grip. “ Never saw any- 
thing in my life that did me so much good as did the 
sight of that bully cavorting down the hill inside that 
barrel, with the nails tearing the clothes and hide off 
him in chunks, and him a-yelling as if all the imps in 
hell were jabbing him with their pitchforks,” and Mr. 
Judson chuckled joyously. “ I got here just in time to 
get a glimpse of you boys dancing. Didn’t know you 
could shake your legs so lively,” and he chuckled again. 
“ Now we must be moving, for I have heard of some 
cattle, about a mile down the River Road, and I want 
to have a look at them. In want of any cattle, Tom? ” 

‘‘ Yes,” answered Tom Rawlins. “ I’ll have to get 
another yoke. Thought of going through with horses 
at first, but changed my mind when I found out what 
was before me. Oxen are slow, but they’ll stand a heap 
more hard travel and hard living than horses; and I 
reckon the critters will see plenty of both before they 
haul a waggon from here to California. I’ve got two 
yoke of steers, medium heavy ones, and now I want a 
light yoke for leaders.” 

“ Then come right along with us,” Mr. Judson in- 
vited heartily. “ I’m told this fellow has about a dozen 
yoke of fine steers and some cows and horses, and I 
reckon we both can get what we want there.” 

Tom Rawlins, much to Ray’s and Arthur’s joy, for 
they admired their big friend hugely, gladly accepted 
Mr. Judson’s invitation; and after a few minutes more 
spent in answering the good-natured badinage of the 
crowd, who were not in the least backward in showing 

[136] 


An Adventure with a Bad Man 

their approval of the way Tom Rawlins had dealt with 
the pseudo-bad man of the Wild West, they started 
for the ranch of the cattle dealer, intending to get the 
purchases made by Mr. Judson at the store on their 
return. 


[ 137] 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN 


THE SURPRISE 

M r. JUDSON and Tom Rawlins both found 
cattle to their liking at the ranch, and each 
purchased a yoke of sturdy young steers. 
Then Mr. Judson asked to see the horses; and to Ray’s 
and Arthur’s surprise and pleasure, purchased three 
strong-limbed, broad-chested Western ponies, accus- 
tomed to the rough fare of the plains. Two of the 
horses were broke to drive as well as to ride, but the 
third and smallest, a beautiful, clean-limbed mare with 
an unusually intelligent-looking head, had only known 
the saddle. 

“ She’s gentle and true and about as fast as they 
make horses,” the dealer said. “ My gal has ridden her 
all over, and I am sure she will prove the right horse 
for your little girl.” Mr. Judson had explained that he 
was buying the pony for Mildred. 

Three complete riding outfits were bought with the 
three horses. 

“ Now,” Mr. Judson said, when all the purchases 
had been made, including a new milch cow that the 
dealer warranted to be a good milker, “ you two boys 
can ride the horses to camp, taking turns leading Mil- 
dred’s pony, while Tom and I drive the cow and the 
oxen. We’ll load the things I bought at the store on 
Mildred’s horse.” 


[138] 


The Surprise 

This was exactly what Ray and Arthur had been 
hoping for ever since the horses had been purchased; 
and hardly were the words out of Mr. Judson’s mouth 
when each boy placed his foot in the stirrup — the three 
horses were already saddled and bridled — and swung 
himself on the back of the horse that suited his own 
particular taste best. Both boys were accustomed to 
horses and good riders, and the two ponies were 
well broke, and after a short preliminary gallop just 
to try the mettle of their mounts, they declared the 
horses “ splendid ” and were ready to begin the return 
trip. 

On the way back to the camp Mr. Judson and Tom 
Rawlins talked over the long journey to California, 
while Ray and Arthur rode on a short distance ahead, 
leading Mildred’s pony behind them, and talking en- 
thusiastically of the new purchases, each confident that 
the horse he had selected would prove the speedier 
when put to the test, and both loud in their praises of 
Mildred’s pony. 

“ Won’t Mildred be surprised and pleased,” Ar- 
thur said, his eyes sparkling, “ when she sees us riding 
into camp on the backs of two horses and leading a 
beautiful pony all saddled and bridled and ready for 
her to mount? ” 

“ Indeed she will,” Ray replied heartily. “ And I 
fancy the very first thing she will want to do will be 
to get on the back of the pony and challenge us to 
race. You know she has often told us what a fine horse- 
back rider she is. My, but won’t her eyes sparkle and 
her cheeks dimple when she sees what a beautiful pony 
her father has bought her! I am glad Mildred is so 
chummy. She is almost as good as a boy.” 

[ 139 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“Almost as good as a boy! ” Arthur retorted indig- 
nantly. “ I think she is a whole lot better than any boy 
I ever knew. She isn’t squealy and a ’f raid-cat like most 
girls, and she don’t cry at every little hurt, and — and 
she has such a merry laugh and rosy, dimpling cheeks. 
No-up, I wouldn’t trade Mildred for a dozen boys,” 
he finished loyally and just a bit defiantly. 

“ Neither would I,” Ray declared flushing. “ And I 
didn’t mean that a boy was better, only that she was 
almost as good as a boy to play boy-games with, and — 
and being a girl made her a lot better, and — Well, you 
know what I mean,” he floundered, the red in his 
cheeks deepening. “ Anyway, Mildred is all right and 
better than two dozen boys, and we’ll have great fun 
together riding these horses.” 

“ If Mr. Judson will only let us,” Arthur broke in. 
“ They are his own horses, and he will probably want 
to keep them for his own use. How I do wish I had 
money enough to buy this horse for my very own ! ” 
and Arthur bent forward and stroked the glossy neck 
of the horse he was riding. “ They are all beauties, but I 
do think this one is a little the best of the lot — for me.” 

“ Well, I am glad you think so,” Ray laughed, “ be- 
cause that is exactly the way I feel about the horse I 
am on, as if he was the best of the bunch — for me. But 
what is the use? Neither of us ever had enough money 
to buy a horse like these. Do you know what Mr. Jud- 
son paid for the two that we are on? Two hundred 
and fifty dollars apiece ! And three hundred dollars for 
Mildred’s! I saw him count out the money.” 

“ Whew 1 ” whistled Arthur. “ Looks as if I’d have 
to wait until I get to California and discover a gold 
mine before I do any investing in horse-flesh. But they 
[ 140] 


The Surprise 

are all beauties and worth the price; and if I had two 
hundred and fifty dollars I’d give it in a minute for 
you,” and he leaned forward and threw both arms 
around his horse’s neck and pressed his cheek against 
the silken hair. 

When Independence was reached, the goods Mr. 
Judson had purchased were all placed in a large 
gunny-sack, and then fastened on the back of Mildred’s 
pony, and the journey back to camp resumed. 

Tom Rawlins was camped about half a mile south 
of where our friends had pitched their tent, and parted 
from them shortly before they reached their camp. 

“ Come over to-night, Tom,” Mr. Judson called, as 
Tom Rawlins started off with his yoke of oxen. ‘‘ I 
want to talk over this Oregon Trail route some more 
with you. I’ve about decided to go that way.” 

“ All right. I’ll be over a little after sundown,” and 
with a final wave of his hand to Ray and Arthur, Big 
Tom Rawlins continued on his way. 

” I think he’s great ! ” and Ray’s eyes followed ad- 
miringly the stalwart figure of his big friend as he 
strode along behind his yoke of steers. “ And I’ll never 
forget how he rescued us from that bully and coward 
with the whip and the revolver. My, but I was scarti 
I was afraid that drunken brute would shoot us. He 
looked ugly and wicked and acted crazy enough to 
do anything bad. But didn’t we turn the tables on him 
in great shape — I mean didn’t Tom Rawlins? And 
didn’t he look funny rolling down the hill in that 
whisky barrel? Only it won’t no fun for him, just as 
our dancing won’t no fun for us. But he deserved it,” 
and Ray’s face hardened. “And I am mighty glad I got 
in some good licks on him with the whip. I can still 

[ 141 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

feel the sting of his whip-lash around my legs — Hello ! 
There comes Mildred on the run to meet us I ” and the 
eyes of both boys turned to where Mildred, her hair 
streaming in wind-blown ringlets about her neck and 
shoulders, her cheeks red as two roses, her eyes spark- 
ling with excitement, her bright-red dress flashing 
about her swiftly moving legs, was being borne toward 
them on feet that moved so quickly that they seemed 
scarcely to touch the tops of the blades of grass over 
which they sped. 

“Whose horses are you riding? Oh, whose horses 
are you riding?’’ she called excitedly, the moment she 
came within voice reach. “Are they papa’s horses? 
Did papa buy them? Oh, what a little beauty! ” and 
she brought up, panting and almost breathless with run- 
ning and excitement, by the side of her own pony. 

Ray and Arthur had both stopped their horses and 
now sat watching the face of the excited girl, grinning 
joyously, but not answering a word. 

“ Is this pony for me? Is this pony for me? Oh, you 
little beauty! ” and she began stroking the pony’s nose 
which had been thrust out inquisitively toward her. 
“ Did papa buy this pony for me? Why don’t you boys 
say something? Why don’t you answer me?” and she 
flashed her sparkling eyes in the direction of Ray and 
Arthur. 

“ Well, this is the first time you’ve given a fellow a 
chance,” laughed Arthur. “ Yes, Mr. Judson bought 
these horses, but I fancy he got that little fellow for 
Scoot to ride on. You see Scoot is almost too small to 
walk, and — and you and your mother will hardly want 
him riding with you in the waggon. Yes, I think your 
father bought that pony for Scoot to ride,” and Arthur 

[ 142 ] 


The Surprise 

tried to look as if buying three-hundred-dollar horses 
for little negro boys to ride was an everyday occurrence 
where he came from. But Mildred was not so easily 
fooled. For a moment she stared wonderingly and just 
a bit doubtfully at Arthur, and then the dimples came 
dancing back into her cheeks. 

“ Oh, you can’t fool me,” she laughed. “ I know 
papa did not buy this pony for Scoot, and I just do be- 
lieve he did buy her for me,” and then catching sight 
of her father, who had now come up with the cow and 
the oxen, she shook her curls at Arthur and cried: 
“ Keep your information to yourself if you want to. 
I’m going to headquarters for mine,” and off she ran 
to her father, exclaiming as she ran: “ Is that beautiful 
little horse for me, papa? Oh, is that beautiful pony 
for me? Tell me, quick! Did you buy that pony for 
me?” and she caught hold of her father’s arm and 
began to pull as if she would pull the information right 
out of him. 

“ Well, now,” Mr. Judson began deliberately, 

(( j 

“ Papa Judson, tell me this minute,” and the ex- 
cited girl stamped her foot. “Tell me, is this pony 
mine? Yes or no.” 

“ Sure, I ” 

“ She is mine I She is mine 1 ” and Mildred was rac- 
ing back to the pony; but before she reached the horse, 
she whirled around, ran back to her father, impulsively 
threw her arms around his neck, showered about a 
dozen kisses all over his face, including one on the end 
of his nose, and without taking time to utter a word, 
doubtless thinking the kisses sufficiently expressive, ran 
back to the pony. 


[ 143 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Oh, I must ride her, I must ride her at once ! ” she 
exclaimed. “ Please take that bag of stuff off so I can 
get into the saddle,” and she turned imperatively to 
Ray and Arthur. 

Both boys sprang from their horses’ backs, and in 
three minutes the sack of goods had been transferred 
to the back of Ray’s horse, and Mildred had been 
swung into the saddle by her father’s strong arms and 
was galloping off toward her mother, partly turning 
in her saddle and waving her hand to her father and 
the boys as she galloped away. 

Arthur rode swiftly after her, but Ray, having the 
heavy sack across his saddle, was obliged to walk and 
lead his horse; and when he and Mr. Judson reached 
the camp they found Mildred and Arthur still mounted 
on their horses, surrounded by an admiring group made 
up of Mrs. Judson and Scoot and the entire Jimpson 
family, who had arrived during the afternoon and 
pitched their camp near by. Mildred was enthusiasti- 
cally dilating upon the beauty and speed and easy 
riding of her pony, and Arthur was doing his best to 
get in a word now and then in praise of his own mount, 
while all the others, each in his or her own way, were 
endeavouring to express their admiration for the two 
horses. 

“ Here, Ray, come here ! ” shouted Arthur laugh- 
ingly the moment Ray came up. “ Mildred and her 
pony are getting all the bouquets. Come and see if we 
two together can’t capture sgme of them.” 

“ And we deserve them, too, don’t we, my little 
beauty? — I mean you do,” and stroking the glossy neck, 
Mildred flashed her eyes toward Ray. “ She’s the pret- 
tiest little horse in all the camp, and rides as easy as 

[ 144] 


The Surprise 

sitting in a rocking-chair, and is as swift as a deer. 
Why,” and she sat up straight in her saddle and her 
eyes began to dance, “ I am sure she can beat both of 
your horses in a race, even if they are larger; and I am 
ready to prove it right now and here,” and she threw 
back her head and shook her curls defiantly at Ray and 
Arthur. 

“ There’s a dare for you, boys,” laughed Mr. Jud- 
son. “ Will you stand for it? ” 

“ Not if you will give us permission to try,” an- 
swered both boys in the same breath, their eyes begin- 
ning to kindle. 

“ Glad to have you try their speed,” answered Mr. 
Judson. “ And I haven’t much fear of either of you 
leaving Dimples very far behind,” he added, smiling. 
“ She’s the best horseback rider for her age, boy or 
girl, that I know of, if I do say it,” he continued 
proudly. “ Now let’s see if everything is solid,” and he 
carefully examined Mildred’s horse and saddle to see 
if every strap and buckle were in fit condition for the 
strains of a race, while Ray and Arthur did the same 
with their animals and equipments. 

“ Fit and tight as a new drum,” was Mr. Judson’s 
comment, as he straightened up after his examination 
of the horse and saddle. “ Now,” and he glanced 
around, “ that post over yonder will make a good place 
to start from,” and he pointed to a post about fifty rods 
away that some emigrant had set in the ground. 
“ ’Twon’t be a long race, but ’twill tell which horse is 
the speediest as well as if it were a mile long. Now for 
the rules and regulations governing this contest. The 
race will be run from yonder post to a cord stretched be- 
tween the front wheel of the waggon and the camp-fire, 

[145] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and held breast-high to a horse. The first horse to 
touch the cord wins the race. There will be but one 
heat, and the start will be made from a standstill. The 
riders will line up their horses by the side of the post 
about six feet apart; and at the word ‘ go ’ from the 
starter each rider will do his or her level best to get his 
or her horse to the cord first. Are the rules and regula- 
tions understood and agreed to? ” and he turned to the 
three children, who now sat ready on their horses, their 
flushed faces and sparkling eyes fixed eagerly on Mr. 
Judson. 

“ Yes,’’ “ Yes,” “ Yes,” they agreed almost in one 
voice. 

“ Mr. Jimpson, will you do us the honour of acting 
as starter? ” 

“ Cartainly,” and the lank Illinoisan straightened 
up from the waggon-wheel against which he had been 
listlessly leaning. “ ’Twill be a right smart race, but I 
calk’lates that blue roan, if th’ kid a-top of him knows 
how tew ride, will take first money. He’s got th’ build 
of a racer,” and he squinted his eyes critically at the 
long legs of Ray’s horse. 

“ Thank you,” and Ray’s face flushed happily. “ I’m 
counting just a little on winning this race myself.” 

“ Better not count your chickens before they are 
hatched,” laughed Mr. Judson. “ Now get to the start- 
ing-point, and we’ll have the thing settled in about 
three jerks to one lamb’s tail. It’s up to you. Dimples, 
to take some of the conceit out of them two young 
gents. Don’t disappoint your old dad,” he called after 
Mildred, as, accompanied by Ray and Arthur, she 
galloped off to the post, followed by Jud Jimpson, 
while Mr. Judson tied a small white cord to the 

[ 146] 


The Surprise 

waggon-wheel, and walking over to the camp-fire, stood 
holding it ready for the coming of the horses. 

In a few minutes Mildred and the two boys had 
their horses in line by the side of the post, and sat wait- 
ing the word “ go ” from the starter, the three horses 
showing almost as much interest and excitement as did 
the children themselves. 

Now,” and Mildred bent forward and stroked the 
arched neck of her pony, “ you are going to win this 
race for me, aren’t you, my little beauty? ” 

The pony pricked up her ears as if listening, nodded 
her head as if in answer to Mildred’s question, and 
began champing her bit as if impatient to prove to 
her young mistress how worthy she was of her words 
of praise. 

“Did you see her nod her head?” cried the de- 
lighted girl. “ I do believe she understood what I was 
saying. Oh, we’ll teach that blue roan of yours a thing 
or two about racing,” and she glanced archly at Ray, 
who sat on his horse to the right of her, with Arthur on 
the left. 

“ Better take your father’s advice and not count your 
chicken^, until they are hatched,” suggested Ray, laugh- 
ing. “ Long legs do count a lot in a race, and I am 
glad that I am on the back of just the horse that I 
am.” 

“ Wait and see! Just wait and seel” and Mildred 
shook her curls defiantly and tightened her grip on the 
bridle-rein, and settled herself firmly in the saddle, 
ready for the first jump of her horse that would mean 
so much in a short race like this. 

“Ready!” and Jud Jimpson glanced along the 
breasts of the three horses to see that all were in line. 

[ 147 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

** Here, pull yer hoss back ’bout six inches,” he called 
to Arthur. 

Arthur jerked his horse back, and both boys tight- 
ened their grip on their bridle-reins, leaned slightly for- 
ward in their saddles, and fixed their eyes on the goal. 

“ One I — Two I — Three I — Go ! 1 1 ” yelled Jud 
Jimpson, jumping wildly up into the air and‘ swinging 
his hat at the word “ go ! ” 

As if the trigger of a catapult had been suddenly 
pulled behind each, the three horses leaped forward; 
but by the fraction of a second, Mildred’s pony leaped 
first, while at the same time she got her speed quicker 
than did either of the other horses, and before they had 
gone ten rods she was leading the other two by a good 
rod. 

“Bully girl I Keep her going! You’ve got them 
beat! ” shouted the excited and delighted Mr. Judson. 
“ Ah ! — Don’t let them get ahead of you ! Let her out 
another notch ! ” he yelled, as he saw the horses of Ray 
and Arthur slowly drawing nearer and nearer to Mil- 
dred’s pony, until they were almost abreast of her. 

At that moment, as if in answer to Mr. Judson’s 
warning cry, the pony seemed to crouch lower and then 
to shoot ahead of the other two horses; and the next 
instant Mildred, with hair and red dress flying, flashed 
by the goal, a full dozen feet ahead of Ray and Arthur, 
whose horses ran so nearly abreast that it was impos- 
sible to tell which was in the lead. 

“ Oh, but isn’t she a beauty? Isn’t she a little 
beauty?” cried the happy girl as, flushed with excite- 
ment and victory, she rode back to where her father 
stood. “ And I think you are the best papa ever girl had 
to give her to me.” 


[148] 


The Surprise 

“ Let’s try it again and have the race longer,” 
pleaded Arthur, riding eagerly up. “ I am sure my 
horse would beat them.” 

“ Yes, do,” joined in Ray. “ I feel certain my horse 
would win in a long race.” 

“ I am ready,” Mildred flashed back, shaking her 
curls. 

“No, no,” laughed Mr. Judson, “we’ll have no more 
racing to-day. Off your horses the three of you. I’ve a 
surprise coming for somebody that is about due to hap- 
pen now, and I want you to help me get ready for it 
at once.” 

“Oh!” and Mildred jumped from her horse. 
“What is it? Tell me. Papa Judson.” 

“ Sure, I want to talk it over with you and your 
mother right now. Here, Scoot, hold Mildred’s pony,” 
and he handed the bridle-rein to the little negro boy. 
“ Excuse us, boys. Come on. Dimples,” and with merry 
twinkles in his eyes Mr. Judson, with Mildred dancing 
along by his side, hurried to where Mrs. Judson was 
standing a little apart from the others, apparently 
awaiting them. 

Ray and Arthur stared after them, more than a little 
mystified by the words and actions of Mr. Judson and 
the behaviour of the Jimpson family, who stood star- 
ing expectantly at the two boys and grinning as if some- 
thing delightful was about to happen. Apparently all 
had been informed as to the nature of this coming 
“ surprise ” except the two boys, and they wondered 
why. 

“ What’s up now? ” and Ray turned to Arthur. The 
two boys stood close together holding their horses by 
the bridle-reins. “ Just see that grin on Jud Jimpson’s 

[ 149 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

face. Looks as if he was expecting something to drop 
that would taste good, don’t he? ” 

“ Shouldn’t wonder if it was something that would 
taste good,” Arthur replied. “ Something that Mr. 
Judson bought while he was in Independence. But say, 
Mildred can ride, can’t she? And that pony of hers is 
a jim-dandy; but I really don’t believe she can beat this 
horse in a long race,” and he turned and threw one arm 
affectionately over his pony’s lowered neck. “ You are 
the best horse in seventeen States, and I’d give any- 
thing, anything, if you were really and truly my own.” 

“ Look, Art,” Ray whispered excitedly. ‘‘ The show 
is about to begin, and we seem to be the centre of at- 
traction, for Mildred and her mother are both headed 
our way, and the rest are all staring and grinning at 
us. What can it be? ” and the two boys watched with 
wondering eyes the approach of Mrs. Judson and 
Mildred. 

Mildred, with dimples coming and going in each 
cheek and eyes sparkling with suppressed excitement, 
walked straight up to Ray. 

“ I’ll take this horse, sir,” she said, and reaching out 
her hand, she caught the bridle-rein from Ray’s fingers, 
who was too astonished to say anything and stood star- 
ing blankly at her. 

“ Allow me to relieve you of this horse, sir,” and 
Mrs. Judson took the rein from Arthur’s hand, and 
without another word walked away with the horse, 
leaving Arthur staring open-mouthed after her. 

Mrs. Judson walked perhaps a rod, then she turned 
round and stood facing Arthur. Almost at the same 
moment Mildred, leading the horse she had taken from 
Ray, joined her, and turning, also faced the boys. 

[ 150] 


The Surprise 

‘‘ Wife,” and Mr. Judson cleared his throat, took 
a step forward, and gave one arm an oratorical fling 
upward, “ wife and daughter, it now becomes your 
pleasant duty to show two brave boys how much, how 
very much you owe to them, and that you have not for- 
gotten your debt.” Again Mr. Judson paused to clear 
his throat, and there was a bit of moisture in his eyes 
as he continued: “ Now, Cat and Dimples, you just fin- 
ish this speech for me. Tm no good at speechifying.” 

Mildred glanced at her mother and smiled; Mrs. 
Judson smiled back and nodded; and then Mildred 
started with the horse she was leading straight for Ray, 
and Mrs. Judson led her horse directly up to Arthur, 
while Mr. Judson and the whole Jimpson family 
crowded nearer expectantly. 

“ Ray,” and Mildred’s voice trembled, “ when I was 
drowning in the Mississippi River after that terrible, 
terrible accident ” — and she shuddered and grew white 
at the recollection of the awful disaster — “ you — you 
saved my life at the risk of your own, and I will never, 
never forget it as long as I live. Now,” and she smiled 
through her tears while the dimples and roses came 
back into her cheeks, “ papa has made me very, very 
happy by giving me the chance to — to — Oh, I wish I 
knew how to say it right — But you will understand 
what I mean, Ray. Papa wishes me to give you this 
horse to be your very own, for — for saving me. I — 
Here, take him. He is yours,” and the happy girl thrust 
the bridle-rein into Ray’s hand. 

“ It’s not to pay you, my boy. It’s not to pay you,” 
and Jed Judson stepped forward and gripped Ray’s 
hand and shook it warmly. “ Mildred’s worth more 
than all the horses that ever walked on four legs. It’s 

[151] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

just to show you that Jed Judson don’t forget a thing 
like that,” and giving Ray’s hand another hearty shake, 
he hurried to Arthur, to whom Mrs. Judson, her moth- 
erly face glowing with smiles, had presented the horse 
she was leading, and then had thrown her arms around 
his neck and kissed him, even as she had done on board 
the Lady Belle, 

“ Don’t think that I am trying to pay you in horse- 
flesh for saving the best woman God ever gave to a 
man for a wife,” Mr. Judson cried, catching hold of 
Arthur’s hand and shaking it nearly off his arm. “ It’s 
just a sort of reminder that I’m not forgetting what I 
owe to you. Now — ” But here he was interrupted by 
Jud Jimpson, who doubtless thought it was time 
that he and his numerous family were showing their 
approval of the whole proceeding. 

“ Yunks, everybody!” he shouted, grabbing off his 
hat and swinging it around his head. “ Three cheers 
for them boys! ’Twas a brave deed they did. Hip! 
Hip ! Hip ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! ! Hurrah ! ! ! ” and Jud 
Jimpson swung his hat at the full length of his long 
arm and yelled at the full strength of his piercing 
voice, while the Jimpson family, little and big, sec- 
onded his efforts most heartily and noisily, and even 
Mr. and Mrs. Judson and Mildred and Scoot added 
their voices to swell the cheers that went rolling over 
the prairie and caused many an emigrant to look in 
their direction and to wonder what was going on. 

Some fifteen minutes later, when all the excitement 
had quieted down, Mildred and Ray and Arthur stood 
a little apart from the others, talking together about 
their horses and how surprised they were to get them. 

“ Now,” and Mildred clapped her hands joyfully, 

[ 152 ] 


The Surprise 

“ I know what we will do to end this celebration. We’ll 
christen our horses. I want to name my own pony, and 
I am sure you boys want to name yours. Wait. I’ll get 
the water,” and she ran to the water-pail and filled a 
small tin basin with water, and hurried back with it to 
where the boys stood near the horses. 

“ Here, you hold the basin while I christen mine. I 
know what I am going to name her,” and she handed 
the basin of water to Ray. “ There, that is just right. 
Hold it right there,” and Mildred stood in front of her 
pony and dipped her fingers into the water and said, 
“I name thee Beauty”; and then suddenly withdraw- 
ing her hand from the basin, she sprinkled the water 
adhering to it over the pony’s forehead. “ And Beauty 
henceforth and forevermore shall be your name,” she 
finished, laughing and taking the basin from Ray. 
“ Now christen yours,” and she turned to the boys, 
who entered most heartily into the amusing ceremony. 

Ray’s pony was duly and solemnly christened “ Get- 
there,” “ because,” as Ray explained, “ he looks as if 
he would always be able to get there, and I am sure his 
acts won’t go back on his looks.” Arthur christened his 
horse “Black Duke,” “because his colour is almost coal 
black, and I am certain he’s at least a duke among 
horses.” And as Beauty and Getthere and Black Duke 
the three ponies were known thereafter. 


[ 153 ] 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 
JUD jimpson’s ash-map 
OM RAWLINS came over to the Judson 



camp that night a little after sundown as he 


had promised, and he and Mr. Judson and 


Jud Jimpson sat down near the camp-fire, with Mildred 
and her mother and the two boys and Scoot sitting a 
little in the background, to talk over the long trip to 
California and to plan how best it could be made. Mr. 
Judson had discovered a prize in Jud Jimpson, who, 
before he married and took to civilised ways, had been 
a Western hunter and had hunted all through the sec- 
tion traversed by the Oregon Trail, and had been over 
the trail itself several times and twice to Great Salt 
Lake, and once he and a companion had gone clear 
through to California and hunted for a month, as near 
as he could judge from what he heard, through the 
very region where the gold had been since discovered; 
and consequently both Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins 
rejoiced greatly to have him join their council. 

The three men sat and talked and considered and 
planned until late in the night, while the boys and Mil- 
dred listened, fascinated by what they heard of the long 
journey they were about to make through a strange and 
unknown land, where Nature yet remained unchanged 
by the hand of man, and where deers and buffalos and 


[154] 


Jud Jimpsons Ash-Map 

wolves and bears and the hardly less savage and wild 
Indians made their homes. 

Jud Jimpson was the only one of the three men that 
had ever been over the trail, but he, as Mr. Judson said 
afterward, “ was chuck full of information,” and gave 
it out freely. He was a ‘‘natural-born” hunter; and 
when he quit hunting and went to Illinois, married, and 
settled down to farming, he was almost as much out of 
his element as a fish would be out of water, and about 
as successful in getting a living, as the condition of him- 
self and family plainly told. But now, with the glowing 
camp-fire in front of him, the darkness of night around 
him, and willing ears to listen to his hunting adven- 
tures, he was exactly in his element; and no man ever 
had a more attentive audience than he did, as he de- 
scribed the country through which they would soon be 
passing, the various tribes of Indians they would meet, 
the kinds of game they would find, and the hardships 
they might be called upon to endure. Indeed, so in- 
terested were all in what he was saying that it was long 
past midnight before the circle around the camp-fire 
broke up and Tom Rawlins and Jud Jimpson returned 
to their camp and the Judson party to their blankets. 

However, three important matters had been defi- 
nitely settled at this camp-fire council: ist, they would 
go to California by way of the Oregon Trail; 2d, they 
would start on the journey early on the morning of 
the following Monday; 3d, and most important, they 
would all go together, Mr. Judson and Tom Raw- 
lins agreeing to properly outfit Jud Jimpson in con- 
sideration of his acting as guide and hunter for the 
entire party. Tom Rawlins was to move his camp early 
the next morning to within a short distance of the 

[155] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

others, so that the boys could keep an eye on it during 
the day; and then the three men were to go to Inde- 
pendence to buy a couple of yokes of oxen and the other 
things needed to put the Jimpson outfit in shape for 
travelling. Monday was but two days off, and conse- 
quently the intervening Saturday, the only working 
day, would be a busy day for all hands, for everything 
in the three outfits had to be overhauled to see if it was 
in proper condition for the long journey, and the wag- 
gons repacked. 

Fortunately Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins had al- 
ready purchased all their supplies, and as their outfits 
were entirely new, there was little to be done to them 
to get them in readiness for the start, so that the ener- 
gies of all could be concentrated on getting the outfit 
of Jud Jimpson in shape; and when Saturday night 
came and the darkness again settled down over the 
prairie, Jud Jimpson was the proud possessor of an 
almost entirely new outfit. His worn-out oxen had been 
sold, and two yokes of vigorous young steers had been 
purchased; his waggon had been completely over- 
hauled, and everything in and about it made ready for 
the journey; and his larder had been replenished with 
many pounds of flour and bacon and other sadly needed 
supplies, while Mrs. Judson and Mildred had been 
busy nearly every moment of the day getting the cloth- 
ing of Mrs. Jimpson and the children in better condi- 
tion. 

Ray and Arthur had nearly worn their legs off run- 
ning back and forth between the three waggons and 
attending to the oxen and horses and doing a multitude 
of other needed things; and when night came and they 
were at liberty to throw themselves down on the soft 

[156] 


Jvd Jimpsons Ash-Map 

folds of their blankets before the cheerful glow of the 
camp-fire, they were two very tired as well as happy 
boys, for the day had been one constant round of excite- 
ment and interest to them as well as of work. 

Even Scoot had been kept busy every moment of the 
day, and had clearly proven his late master a falsifier, 
for if he had any lazy bones in his little black body, not 
one of them had been in evidence during the day, while 
his cheerful comicalities had added greatly to the gaiety 
of all. Indeed, dressed in his new suit of blue jeans that 
Mr. Judson had bought for him in Independence, and 
with face and hands and hair as clean as soap and water 
could make them, he appeared altogether a different 
fellow from the ragged, dirty, disreputable-looking lit- 
tle black piccaninny that had so startled Mildred only 
a couple of nights before. 

That night, when all had gathered around the camp- 
fire, Jud Jimpson, whose transformation from a listless, 
shiftless emigrant into an alert, resourceful hunter had 
been almost as marvellous as that through which Scoot 
had passed, spread out several handfuls of white ashes 
on a smooth spot of ground, and with a pointed stick 
traced in the ashes a rough map of the route over which 
they would travel as far as Salt Lake City, that won- 
derful city which the Mormons had so recently estab- 
lished in the wilderness near Great Salt Lake. 

“ Now we’ll let this point stand for Independence, 
where we be now,” and Jud Jimpson thrust the point 
of his stick into the southeastern edge of his little plot 
of ashes. ‘‘ Th’ trail runs northwesterly ’bout like this,” 
and he drew a nearly straight line diagonally across 
the plot of ashes in a northwesterly direction, “ clear 
through tew Fort Laramie, which is nigh seven hundred 

[ 157 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

miles from where we be now an’ th’ last post east 
of th’ Rockies; an’ continues on in th’ same gineral di- 
rection for somethin’ like fifty miles further, when it 
runs up ’g’inst th’ Wind River Mountains ’bout like 
this,” and with numerous short scratches he indicated 
a short range of mountains extending almost directly 
east and west; “an’ turns an’ goes west ’long th’ 
Sweet Water Valley, through th’ Devil’s Gate, an’ over 
th’ Great Divide of th’ Rockies by way of th’ South 
Pass, which is somethin’ over nine hundred miles from 
where we be now.” 

Here Jud paused to make a long series of short 
scratches in the ashes, running north and south of the 
point where he had indicated the South Pass to be. 

“ Them’s th’ Rockies,” he said by way of explana- 
tion, pointing to the scratches, “ an’ ’long right here,” 
and his stick rested on the South Pass, “ is where th’ 
backbone of this here continent runs, an’ a mighty 
rough an’ rocky backbone it is. But once through th’ 
South Pass an’ a-top th’ Great Divide, th’ trail soon 
begins tew go down an’ th’ water in th’ streams tew 
flow westward to’rd th’ Pacific, ’stead of eastward to’rd 
th’ Atlantic, an’ th’ trail does considerable twistin’ an’ 
windin’ down th’ Pacific slope, through valleys an’ can- 
yons tew Fort Bridger; an’ thence down through th’ 
valley of th’ Bear River an’ a lot of other valleys an’ 
canyons, in a southwesterly direction, tew Great Salt 
Lake, where th’ Mormons have started their city, 
which I reckon is somethin’ atween thirteen an’ four- 
teen hundred miles from here, an’ ’bout two-thirds of 
th’ way tew Californy.” 

As Jud Jimpson thus briefly outlined the trail to 
Great Salt Lake, he had traced it on the plot of ashes 
[ 158] 


Jud Jimpsons Ash-Map 

with his pointed stick. He now made an irregular circle 
in the ashes, which he explained stood for Great Salt 
Lake, and a little to the east of the south end of this 
circle he scratched a cross to represent Salt Lake City. 

“ There, that’s ’bout where th’ City of th’ Saints is, 
accordin’ tew my reckonin’,” he continued. “ An’ now, 
bein’ that we’ve got th’ trail laid out far as Great Salt 
Lake, I’ll go back an’ give you somethin’ of an idee of 
what sort of a country it runs through, so that you’ll 
get an idee of what sort of a thing you’re up ag’inst. 
’Twon’t be no picnic excursion, but somethin’ over two 
thousand miles of th’ roughest an’ toughest travellin’ 
God ever gave a man tew do afore you reach Cali- 
forny. 

“ Now,” and again the point of the stick rested on 
the spot that stood for Independence on the ash-map, 
“ from here tew th’ Platte River, ’bout three hundred 
miles, th’ trail runs through a sort of rollin’ prairie-like 
country, cut by deep ravines worn by th’ water, with 
high bluffs ’long th’ rivers, an’ plenty of water an’ 
grass, if th’ gold-seekers ain’t ate an’ drank it all up. 
Looks as if all creation an’ his wife an’ yunks had 
started for Californy,” and Jud Jimpson paused and 
glanced around at the hundreds of glowing camp-fires 
of the big encampment. “ Well, I reckon th’ West is 
big enough for all. But as I was a-sayin’, th’ trail tew 
th’ waters of th’ Platte won’t have no hardships worth 
speakin’ of, an’ there won’t be much danger from th’ 
Injuns, bein’ that th’ Delawares an’ Sauks an’ Pawnees 
an’ other tribes atween here an’ th’ Platte are tew 
civilised tew be good for much of anythin’ but drinkin’ 
forty-rod whisky an’ stealin’ ; but Jumpin’ Moses, how 
them red vermint will steal ! — bosses, cattle, grub, 

[159] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

anythin’ they can lay their dirty hands on, even tew th’ 
teeth out of your head if ye don’t keep your mouths 
shut,” and he glared at Scoot who sat listening with 
mouth agape and ivories glistening in the firelight. 
With a startled “ Golly ! ” the negro clapped his hand 
over his lips and shut his mouth tight, and henceforth 
only the rolling of his eyes showed his absorbing in- 
terest in what Jud Jimpson was saying. 

“ But won’t we find any buffalos and deers and bears 
along the trail?” Ray inquired anxiously, taking ad- 
vantage of the pause that followed the laugh caused 
by the sudden eclipse of Scoot’s shining ivories. “ I 
thought the West was full of buffalos, and that deers 
and antelopes were as common as sheep and cows in 
the East.” 

“ Buffalos ! ” and Jud Jimpson made a comprehen- 
sive sweep with his pointed stick to the northwest. 
“ Well, I’ve seen them prairies black with buffalos, an’ 
spotted with deers and antelopes, an’ th’ lakes an’ rivers 
jest ’bout covered with ducks an’ geese, an’ quails an’ 
prairie-hens an’ jackass-rabbits so thick you couldn’t 
throw a stone anywhere without killin’ one or t’other.” 

“ Oh I Oh ! ” exclaimed Ray and Arthur in a de- 
lighted chorus. “ We’ll live on buffalo steak and veni- 
son and ducks, and ” 

“Jest hold your bosses,” and Jud shook his stick at 
the two boys. “ They’re gettin’ some rambunctuous, 
an’ need pullin’ up. I said I seen ’em, but that ain’t 
sayin’ you’ll see ’em. This here string of squeakin’ 
waggins, an’ yellin’ men an’ women an’ yunks, an’ whin- 
nerin’, bellerin’, brayin’ bosses an’ oxen an’ mules, 
stretchin’ clean from here tew Californy, is enough tew 
give every buffalo an’ deer in them valleys a headache, 
[i6o] 


Jud Jimpsons Ash-Map 

an’ stampede ’em all north an’ south; where they can 
chew their cuds in quietness an’ peace. An’ as for b’ar, 
any self-respectin’ b’ar wouldn’t be seen within a mile 
of th’ trail,” and the old hunter looked his disgust as 
he thought of the havoc this tumultuous exodus of Phil- 
istines through his old hunting-grounds would make 
with the game. 

“ And then we won’t see any buffalo and deer and 
bears,” complained Arthur dolefully. 

“ I ain’t sayin’ that, I ain’t sayin’ that. I reckon afore 
we gets tew Californy we’ll see a-plenty of all them 
critters; but ’twon’t be as it used tew be, ’twon’t be as 
it used tew be,” he repeated regretfully. “ An’ we’ll 
have tew get away from th’ trail tew find th’ big game ; 
but I’ll promise you boys a chance tew try your guns 
on buffalos an’ deers an’ maybe a b’ar or tew afore we 
gets tew Californy, in spite of all these gol-danged lu- 
natics, who ’pear tew think goin’ tew Californy ’cross 
th’ plains an’ mountains is a sort of a Sunday-school 
picnic. 

“ Now,” and the stick returned to the trail marked 
on the ash-map, “ let me continue tew show you what 
them idjits are up ’g’inst. Th’ trail follows ’long th’ 
Platte Valley clear up tew th’ Red Buttes, which is 
somethin’ over a hundred miles beyond Fort Laramie 
an’ nigh seven hundred and fifty miles from here; an’ it 
ain’t no turnpike with bridges ’cross th’ streams an’ 
th’ steep spots made level, but jest as God made it, cut 
by deep gullies an’ ravines, crossed by little an’ big an’ 
swift an’ slow streams of water, an’ up an’ down steep 
hills. Sometimes you’ve got tew lower th’ waggin with 
ropes down th’ side of a steep ravine, then ag’in you’ve 
got tew push an’ pull an’ haul it up steep hills, an’ ’cross 
[i6i] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

rivers, like as not gettin’ upset or stuck in th’ river, an’ 
gettin’ into th’ water an’ mud up tew your neck. An’ 
then there’s th’ wind an’ rain storms, when th’ wind 
blows so hard ’twill blow th’ ha’r off a dog’s back, an’ 
th’ water comes down like as if God A’mighty had 
pulled th’ bottom out of one of them lakes up in 
Heaven an’ let th’ hull down ker-flop. No, ’twon’t be 
no Sunday-school picnic excursion,” and Jud Jimpson 
paused to Indicate on his map the spot where Fort 
Laramie stood and the course of the Platte and various 
other rivers. 

“ When we gets tew th’ Red Buttes we gets tew th’ 
mountains,” he continued, when through with his map- 
making; “ an’ th’ road gets rougher an’ worser, but 
th’ scenery is great. I reckon God A’mighty felt like 
doin’ big things when He made them mountains an’ 
canyons an’ swift rivers a-tumblln’ over rocks an’ down 
precipices; but th’ scenery bein’ grand don’t make it 
any easier travellin’, an’ It’s a tough road, hard on th’ 
men, harder on th’ waggins, an’ hardest on th’ oxen, all 
th’ way over th’ Rockies an’ down th’ t’other side, clean 
tew th’ Great Salt Lake; an’ when we gets there we’ll 
know somethin’ ’bout what It means tew go by ox-team 
tew Californy, but we won’t know th’ worse. Th’ worst 
bit of th’ trail comes In atween Great Salt Lake an’ 
th’ gold-diggin’s ; for, as I remember It, It’s mostly 
mountains an’ canyons an’ barren, waterless, God-for- 
saken tracts of alkali deserts; but we’ll be toughened 
tew It by that time, an’ I reckon we’ll pull through all 
right. 

‘‘ No, this here goln’ tew Californy In a waggin 
won’t be no picnic; but ’twill be somethin’ better. 
’Twill make us all tough an’ hard as nails; ’twill fill 
[ 162 ] 


Jud Jimpsons Ash-Map 

our lungs full of God’s pure air an’ our eyes full of th’ 
sights of God’s Great Country an’ our hearts full of 
freedom an’ inderpendence, for there every man be his 
own king an’ president, an’ rules by th’ rights of his 
own manhood,” and Jud Jimpson’s eyes kindled and 
his lank form straightened. “ Why, I feel like a fellow 
that’s been in jail an’ jest got out when I looks toward 
them great plains an’ valleys an' mountains. No more 
stiff-collar, white-shirt civilisation, with houses with 
stoves in ’em crowdin’ together so thick you can see a 
half a dozen of ’em all tew once, for me. Th’ rifle, not 
th’ plough; th’ huntin’-knife, not th’ axe; th’ freedom 
of th’ great plains an’ th’ mountains, not th’ four walls 
of a house full of bad smells of cookin’ an’ such; them’s 
th’ things that makes a man a man; them’s th’ things 
that makes life worth th’ livin’.” As he spoke his eyes 
were turned toward the great Northwest, and for the 
moment he forgot his present surroundings; then with 
a laugh he came back to the little camp-fire and the 
circle of wondering faces, kindling with something of 
his own wild enthusiasm. 

“ Well, I reckon I’ve been doin’ a little oratin’,” 
he said, his face flushing; “but th’ thought of them 
great plains an’ mountains got my blood tew jumpin’ 
an’ I jest had tew do a little spoutin’. Now ye have 
somethin’ of an idee what th’ trail’s like,” and he sat 
down. 

For an hour longer the talk around the camp-fire 
continued, during which many eager questions were 
asked by the boys and the others concerning the route 
and answered by Jud Jimpson, and then all turned to 
their blankets for the repose all needed so greatly. 

“ By the way, boys, who do you think we saw in 
[ 163 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Independence to-day? ” Mr. Judson asked, as he rolled 
himself up in his blanket near the camp-fire. 

“ Don’t know,” Ray replied sleepily. 

“ That black-leg gambler. Slim George, that we ma- 
rooned coming down the Ohio. ’Pears to me,” he added 
suspiciously, he’s taking a lot of interest in my doings. 
He got on the boat the same time I did, and he’s fol- 
lowed me ever since. Wonder if he can know anything 
about — ” and he stopped abruptly, remembering that 
the boys knew nothing of the iron-bound money-chest 
and its contents. 

“About what?” Arthur inquired, half raising him- 
self in his blanket. “ Ray and I saw him the day we 
were there and meant to tell you, but forgot. Shouldn’t 
wonder if he was bound for California, too.” 

“I reckon you’re right. Anyway, it’s time we shut 
our mouths and eyes. Good-night,” and Mr. Judson 
rolled over in his blanket and closed his eyes, and soon 
all were sound asleep, except Tom Rawlins, who was to 
keep the first three-hours’ watch over the three camps, 
for ever since the attempt to rob Mr. Judson’s waggon, 
a guard had been kept during the sleeping hours of 
the night. 


[ 164] 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 


THIS WAGGON IS BOUND TO GO CLEAR THROUGH TO 
THE SACRAMENTO ” 

G et Up! Rout out, everybody! Ho, for Cali- 
fornia ! ” shouted Mr. Judson early Monday 
morning, as he leaped up from his blankets. 
“The Great Day, the Momentous Hour has come! 
Ho, for the gold mines! Ho, for California! Every- 
body get up ! ” 

Ray and Arthur leaped to their feet, Mildred stuck 
her head, all rumpled curls and smiles and dimples, out 
of the tent opening. Scoot jumped up from under the 
waggon, where he had made his bed, and all joined in 
the shout: “ Ho, for California! 

A few minutes later and the “ women folks ” were 
busily engaged in getting breakfast, while the men and 
the boys attended to the making ready of the horses 
and oxen for the beginning of their long journey. 

Our friends had passed Sunday quietly. In the morn- 
ing, after the necessary work had been done, Ray and 
Arthur and Mildred had “ fixed up ” in their “ best ” 
clothes, and followed by Scoot, had wandered about the 
great encampment, interested and amused by the novel 
scenes they witnessed. As a rule, all except needful work 
was suspended, and the emigrants, dressed in clean, 
neat clothing, lounged about the waggons and tents, 

[165] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

talking “ trade ” in subdued undertones, or discussing 
the ever-interesting latest news from California, or 
sauntered about from camp to camp swapping news 
and stories. 

A little after noon a man had climbed up on top of 
a waggon and had blown a horn, announcing that the 
religious service, notices of which had been previously 
circulated about the encampment, was about to begin. 
The preacher stood on a feed-box turned bottom side 
up, and behind him sat, on boards supported by boxes, 
five or six women, wives and daughters of the emi- 
grants, and a dozen or more men, forming the choir; 
and never did costly voices in stately churches sound 
more sweetly or reverently than did those that rose 
heavenward through the clear, pure, prairie air of that 
bright June day; and never had minister a more motley 
or a more attentive audience. • 

When evening came all had again gathered around 
the camp-fire, and Mrs. Judson and Mildred, both of 
whom were blessed with beautiful voices that had been 
well trained, had sang old home-songs ; and the thought 
of home was in the hearts of all, and all spoke in low, 
subdued voices, and moved quietly about the camp-fire, 
for they were about to leave all that stood for home 
and the home life behind, and go forth into the un- 
known wilderness of plains and valleys and mountains, 
with its mysteries and difficulties and dangers; and the 
thought of what all this might mean was in every heart, 
and no one felt very much like joking, and when bed- 
time came all had gone to their blankets with some- 
thing of the same feeling a youth has when, for the 
last time before striking out for himself in the great 
unknown world, he goes to his little room to take what 
[ i66] 


Bound for the Sacramento 

well may be his last night’s rest on the bed whereon he 
has slept for so many years. They were about to bid 
adieu to all the familiar scenes and things of civilisa- 
tion, and not one of them could foresee what dangers 
and hardships and sufferings were before them. But in 
the clear, cool air of the early morning all these sad- 
dening thoughts and gloomy forebodings had van- 
ished; and the children’s glad, “ Ho, for California! ” 
had found a joyous echo in every heart. 

The breakfast that morning was hurriedly eaten, 
amid much excited talk; and then the cook-stove was 
lifted to its place in the waggon, where the tent and its 
belonging had already been placed, the cow tied to the 
tail-board of Mr. Judson’s waggon, the oxen yoked to 
the waggons, and the horses saddled and bridled ready 
for their riders. This done, the three men caught up 
their ox-whips, Mrs. Judson and Mrs. Jimpson, with 
her baby in her arms and her two youngest children by 
her side, climbed upon the front seats of their waggons, 
Ray and Arthur and Mildred leaped upon the backs 
of their horses. Scoot and Sally, the oldest Jimpson 
girl, fell in by their sides — and the moment for the 
actual start had come. 

“Everybody ready?” and Mr. Judson gave a fare- 
well glance about. 

“Ay!” “Ay!” answered Tom Rawlins and Jud 
Jimpson. 

Mr. Judson gripped the short staff of his whip with 
both hands, swung the long lash around his head, and 
with the shout, “ Ho, for the gold mines of Califor- 
nia ! ” sent the lash hurtling through the air and 
cracked its snapper with a pistol-like report between 
the ears of his foreward yoke of oxen; and the three 
[ 167 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

waggons, with the oxen straining at their yokes, swung 
into line, Jud Jimpson, by virtue of his being the guide, 
taking the lead, Mildred and Ray and Arthur, with 
Scoot and Sally Jimpson trotting along after them, 
coming next, then Mr. Judson, and last Tom Rawlins, 
with his waggon, which, in a fit of seeming temporary 
insanity, he had painted a bright red, cover, box, gear- 
ing, wheels, and all. 

“ Well, we’re off at last,” Ray said, his eyes spark- 
ling. ‘‘ Now for the great plains and valleys and moun- 
tains and Indians and bears and buffalos and deers, 
and then the gold mines! Oh, we’ll have a great time, 
won’t We, Getthere?” and he leaned forward and 
stroked his horse’s neck, a glorious picture of vigorous 
boyish enthusiasm. 

“ Good-bye, houses and soft beds and stores and all 
such things,” and Arthur waved his hand a bit melo- 
dramatically toward all the great East. “ We’re off 
for the Wild West, where the roof of our house will 
be the glorious skies, its walls all outdoors, and its 
foundations the solid old earth. Now for California 
and the gold mines 1 ” and he turned his face westward 
toward the golden Eldorado of his dreams. 

Mildred spoke no words of good-bye, but she turned 
in her saddle and looked long eastward, her face sad- 
dening and her eyes filling; and then slowly lifting her 
finger-tips to her lips, she threw a kiss of farewell to 
the East and all that it meant to her, and resolutely 
faced the great unknown West. 

Many of the emigrants had chosen that bright June 
morning to make their start Californiaward, and a 
long line of white-topped waggons was already slowly 
rolling westward across the undulating prairie and 

[i68] 


Bound for the Sacramento 

vanishing in the far distance over the brow of a low 
hill. Other slower ones were eagerly making ready for 
the start, and these greeted our friends as they passed 
by with shouts that they would soon be with them, 
and with witticisms and boastful oilers to wager that 
they would yet beat them to the gold mines. Those who 
were not yet ready to start looked longingly after the 
long procession of adventurers winding its way west- 
ward, and shouted words of cheer and waved their 
hats and handkerchiefs in farewell. 

And now behind our friends lay the little City of 
Tents, and beyond them stretched the winding trail — 
into what mysteries, difficulties, and dangers who could 
tell? But they passed right bravely on, for beyond that 
far Western horizon were the things that youth and 
manhood, ay, and womanhood, ever love — gold and 
adventure, the opportunity to do and to dare, to win 
for one’s self fame and fortune, to make a place in the 
great working world. 

“ Now it’s California sure or bust,” Ray said as 
they turned from their last look toward the encamp- 
ment and rode slowly down the ridge of hills that 
seemed to rise like a wall between them and the scenes 
and things of civilised life. 

“ Sure ! ” Arthur responded, laughing. “ That is 
what was painted on the cover of one of the waggons 
we just passed; and judging from the looks of the out- 
fit, ’twill be ‘ bust.’ ” 

“ Oh, we must have a motto painted on our waggon- 
cover!” Mildred exclaimed. “Almost everybody has. 
What shall it be?” 

“ How would ‘ Root, hog, or die ’ do? ” Ray sug- 
gested, smiling. “ I saw that painted on a cover a ways 

[ 169] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

back, and it struck me as a good motto — for the fellows 
who had it/' he added. “ They looked as if they had 
already begun to ‘ root’ ” 

“ Well, I’m no pig if you are a hog,” Mildred 
laughed. “ I don’t mean that kind of a motto, but 
something real nice, like ‘ Where there’s a will there’s 
a way, even to California,’ or ‘ Perseverance conquers 
all,’ only let’s make it all up ourselves. Now what shall 
it be?” and her smooth forehead puckered itself all 
up into thought-wrinkles. 

“ We’re going through if it takes both legs,” pro- 
posed Ray. 

“ We’ve got the ‘ will ’ and we’ll find the ‘ way ’ — 
to California,” suggested Arthur. 

“ This waggon is bound to go clear through to the 
Sacramento,” came from Mildred as the result of the 
thought-puckers. 

“ A poet and we didn’t know it,” laughed Ray. 
“But that really is a bully good motto, Mildred; for 
this waggon certainly is bound to go clear through to 
the Sacramento if we have to pull it ourselves. Let’s 
paint that on the cover to-night when we camp. What 
do you say. Art? ” 

“ The very thing. I couldn’t have done it better my- 
self,” assented Arthur merrily. “ Mildred, you’re a 
poet, and I don’t care who knows it — Oh, just see what 
that fellow has got on his waggon! ” and he pointed to 
where a huge, heavily loaded prairie-schooner, drawn 
by five yokes of coal-black oxen, had stopped a little to 
one side of the trail. “ I’d just as lief travel with a 
graveyard as with that thing on my waggon-cover.” 

They were now abreast of the waggon, and could 
plainly read on its white cover scrawled in letters a 

[ 170] 


Bound for the Sacramento 

foot long the words: “ CALEFORNY OR,” followed 
by a rudely drawn, yet gruesomely real-looking, coffin. 

“ Ugh ! Makes me feel creep-a-crawly just to look at 
it, while the black oxen look as if they had already 
gone into mourning.” And Mildred, with a shrug of 
disgust, turned her eyes away. “ I hope they won’t 
travel near us. I am sure something dreadful would 
happen if they should,” and she kept her face turned 
from the waggon. 

“ Hope ye ain’t stoppin’ tew dig your grave yet, 
neighbour,” Jud Jimpson sang out cheerily as he 
tramped by. 

“ Not on your life,” answered one of the three men 
lying on the ground in front of the waggon. “ That 
there ’lustrated motto’s jest tew tell folks that nothin’ 
this side of th’ grave can stop us. What might ye be 
totin’ across th’ plains in that there red waggon, 
stranger?” and he turned to Tom Rawlins with his 
flame-coloured waggon. “ Hope ’tain’t got th’ scarlet 
fever, ’cause that’s catchin’.” 

“ Well, whatever it’s got, ’tain’t catching,” retorted 
Tom Rawlins good-naturedly. “ You see, I had to paint 
them red steers white,” and he pointed to his three 
yokes of red steers, “ or that white waggon red, to 
make the colour scheme harmonise, me being artistic- 
natured; and I reckoned ’twould be easier to paint the 
waggon than the critters. See? — Haw, there, Bus- 
ter!” and the long lash of his ox-whip cracked within 
an inch of the right ear of his off forward ox. 

This badinage of good-natured witticisms between 
different parties of emigrants as they met or passed 
one another on the plains was a constant source of 
amusement and cheer. Introductions were not needed. 

[ 171 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Strangers met with friendly greetings and parted with 
a joke or stingless gibe. This was the pleasant etiquette 
of the great plains, the cheerful hospitality of the wild 
life, where strangers were treated as friends until 
proven enemies and not as enemies until proven 
friends. 

The camp that first day was made early, about three 
o’clock in the afternoon, on the summit of a little hill 
that rose from the banks of a small stream of water, 
and half a mile off the main trail, where the grass had 
not yet been eaten by the cattle of the emigrants. The 
three waggons were drawn up in a half circle, the cat- 
tle unyoked, watered, and hobbled where they could 
feed on the rich prairie-grass, the ponies unsaddled 
and unbridled and staked out near the waggons, the 
tents pitched within the circle, the camp-fire built in 
front of the tents; and then our friends proceeded to 
make themselves as comfortable as possible for an hour 
or so, for all were tired, wearied with the unaccustomed 
labour of walking or riding in the hot June sun. 

“ Now let’s try our hands on Mildred’s motto,” Ar- 
thur said, something like an hour later, rising a bit 
stiffly from the grass in the shade of the waggon, 
where the children had been resting their limbs, stif- 
fened by their long horseback ride. 

There was no paint, but the tar-bucket, which swung 
from under every emigrant’s waggon, was brought into 
requisition, and the black, vicious substance answered 
very well as a substitute. 

Ray painted the motto on one side of the waggon- 
cover, and then Arthur tried his skill on the other side, 
while Mildred and Scoot and the older Jimpson chil- 
dren formed a sort of an advisory committee, and stood 

[ 172 ] 





. . ' 

Ray Painted the Motto on One Side of the Wagon-cover, 
and then Arthur Tried his Skill on the Other Side. 


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Bound for the Sacramento 

by freely offering them their advice and help. Both boys 
“painted” big, and thereafter Jedidiah Judson’s wag- 
gon boldly asserted in letters half a foot long to all 
who might care to read : 

This waggon is bound to go 
Clear through to the Sacramento. 

“ Them’s my sentiments, too,” Mr. Judson said, 
laughing, after he had slowly read the motto. “ No 
turning back, once you put your hand to the plough, 
until the furrow is finished. No backing out, once you 
start, until you reach the end started for. Yes, I reckon 
this waggon is bound to go clear through to the Sac- 
ramento. Hey, Scoot? ” and he turned to the little 
negro boy who stood near admiring the lettering. 

“ I done reckon he am,” Scoot replied, scratching his 
wool-kinks and rolling his eyes toward Mr. Judson. 
“ What am dat Sac’mento? ” 

“ That’s the place where gold is found in the ground 
like potatoes by digging,” Mr. Judson answered, smil- 
ing, “ and everybody can have all that he can dig up.” 

“ Golly! ” and Scoot’s eyes opened wide. “ Yo’ can 
dig up gold dar same as ’taters in Kentuck? ” 

Mr. Judson nodded. 

“ An’ don’t hab to gib dat gold to nobody but 
yo’self?” 

Again Mr. Judson nodded. 

“ Den dis niggah’s gwine to hab er mighty big cel- 
lah fo’ dem gold ’taters.” 

There was a loud laugh at Scoot’s characteristic re- 
ply; and before it quieted down the little piccanniny 
had vanished behind one of the waggons in pursuit of 

[ 173 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

a gaudily coloured butterfly that had boldly flitted by 
in front of his face. 

An almost continuous stream of emigrants was pass- 
ing along the trail westward, and Mildred and the 
two boys soon wandered down nearer to the trail where 
they could see them plainer. It was a curious and an 
interesting sight. There were all kinds of vehicles, 
drawn by all kinds of draught animals, and accompa- 
nied by all kinds of human beings, big and little, old 
and young, native and foreign. Here a huge prairie- 
schooner, loaded with a store-load of goods and over- 
flowing with women and children, creaked slowly 
along, drawn it might be by half a dozen or more 
yokes of oxen, and followed possibly by a small, two- 
wheeled, covered go-cart drawn by a single mule or 
horse, with the owner sitting complacently on the nar- 
row seat in front. But by far the greater number of the 
emigrants put their trust in the strong, cloth-covered 
waggon, known as a prairie-schooner, drawn by sturdy 
yokes of oxen; and usually they had no cause to regret 
this trust, for in the long run oxen proved themselves 
superior either to horses or mules for the long, steady 
pull across the barren plains and over the Rocky Moun- 
tains to California. 

Ray and Arthur and Mildred sat on a little mound 
of grass, a dozen rods away, and watched this odd pro- 
cession of adventurous gold-seekers pass for an hour 
or more; and were just about to start back to camp 
when their eyes caught sight of a huge waggon, drawn 
by five yokes of great black oxen, slowly coming along 
over the trail. 

“ Hello, here comes The Mourners 1 ” exclaimed Ar- 
thur, pointing to the coffin already visible on the cover 

[ 174] 


Bound for the Sacramento 

of the approaching waggon. “ I’d feel hoodooed if I 
had to travel with that outfit, black oxen and coffin and 
all.” 

“ And the men are sort of gloomy-looking, too,” 
Ray observed. “ See how solemn and stately that tall 
fellow marches along by the side of the oxen, as if he 
were in a funeral procession.” 

“ Well, I don’t wonder he looks solemn,” Mildred 
declared, “ with that black-coffined thing creeping 
along behind him. I’d walk clear to California before 
I’d ride a step in that waggon.” 

The Mourners, as Arthur had aptly called them, 
passed slowly by, the waggon creaking and the ten 
great black oxen straining at their yokes, while the 
three men, tall, sallow-faced, gloomy- featured fellows, 
stalked solemnly along by their sides. 

“ I declare that fellow means to take it easy! ” ex- 
claimed Arthur a few moments later, pointing back 
along the trail to where a light spring waggon, newly 
covered and drawn by a pair of swift-limbed mules, 
was rolling merrily along over the prairie. 

The mules were driven on a trot, and in a few min- 
utes the light waggon was abreast of the children; 
and the driver as he passed leaned a little forward 
in his seat and glanced toward Mildred and the two 
boys. 

“ Did you see who that was? ” and Ray caught hold 
of Arthur’s arm excitedly. “ Did you see who that was, 
Art?” 

“ Slim George, the gambler ! ” Arthur declared. 
“ And I am sure he recognised us. I saw him start when 
he saw us, and glance toward the camp. We don’t seem 
to be able to lose him. Still, I suppose he’s got just as 

[175] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

much of a right to go to California as we have if he 
wants to.” 

“ But it’s queer, his keeping right along with us,” 
Ray insisted, glancing uneasily after the spring wag- 
gon, which soon passed the slower-moving oxen of The 
Mourners, and disappeared over the top of a small hill. 
“ Anyway, I hope this is the last we see of him. With 
that rig he certainly ought to keep ahead of us lY he 
cares to. Now we’d better return to the camp. It is 
nearly sundown.” 

On their way back to camp they met Mr. Judson 
and Tom Rawlins, who were about to visit a party of 
emigrants camped a little farther on down the trail. 

“ Guess whom we saw pass along the trail a few 
minutes ago, driving a span of mules hitched to a 
light spring waggon?” Arthur called as the two men 
came up. 

“ The minister and his wife,” laughed Tom Raw- 
lins, “ going out to make a neighbourly call — No — 
Well, who then could it have been? ” 

“ That gambler you knocked down on board the 
boat,” declared Arthur. 

“The skunk! If I ever catch him at his dirty tricks 
again,” and the big right fist of Tom Rawlins clenched 
itself involuntarily. 

“Did he see you boys? Did he recognise you?” 
asked Mr. Judson quickly. 

“ Yes, I am sure he did,” replied Arthur, “ for he 
leaned forward in his waggon to get a good look at us, 
and I saw him start and glance up toward the camp.” 

Mr. Judson’s face clouded, but he said no more 
about the gambler ; and the two men soon passed on 
their way to the camp, whose white-topped waggons 
[176] 


Bound for the Sacramento 

could be seen crowning a little hill half a mile farther 
to the west, telling the boys that they would be back 
in an hour or so. 

That night Mildred and her mother slept in the 
space prepared for their bedroom in the waggon, while 
Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins and the two boys and 
Scoot occupied the Judson tent. A second tent, that 
had been purchased in Independence the Saturday be- 
fore they started, was turned over to Jud Jimpson and 
his family. This was the usual sleeping arrangement 
thereafter. 

The night was divided into three watches of two 
and a half hours each, beginning at nine o’clock, the 
bedtime hour. Ray and Arthur wished to stand their 
share of the night-guard, but Mr. Judson bade them 
keep their willingness in reserve for a few days, until 
they had become more accustomed to camp life, prom- 
ising them their fill of guard duty when they reached 
the Indian country, where it would be necessary to keep 
a constant watch over their cattle and horses to prevent 
the red thieves from stealing them. 

“ I’m awfully tired, and my legs feel as if they 
would never want to straddle another horse,” Ray con- 
fessed as he rolled himself up in his blanket inside the 
tent preparatory to going to sleep that night; “ but it’s 
been a bully day. And say. Art, do you know it don’t 
seem possible to me now that I can be the same boy 
that used to slave for old farmer Thompson. Just think, 
we might have been hoeing corn these days instead of 
making this glorious trip to the gold mines of Califor- 
nia across the plains.” 

“ You’re right. It don’t seem possible that we can 
be the same two boys sleeping here in this tent out on 

[ 177 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the prairie who a month ago were sleeping in the 
parlour-chamber of farmer Thompson’s barn,” Arthur 
replied. “ I wonder if old Thompson has found out yet 

what became of us. I wish ” 

“ Boys,” interrupted Mr. Judson, “ as soon as we 
crawl into our blankets that’s the signal for all talk to 
stop and sleep to begin. Besides, I have to go on guard 
in about a couple of hours, and I want to get to sleep. 
Good-night.” 

“ Good-night,” responded Ray and Arthur; and five 
minutes later all in the tent were sound asleep. 


[ 178] 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 


THE MAN BEHIND THE ROCK 


J EDIDIAH JUDSON and his companions were 
too experienced and too wise plainsmen to over- 
load their waggons or overwork their oxen, as 
the majority of the emigrants did, in their anxiety to 
be sure to take enough with them and In their eager- 
ness to get to the promised land as speedily as possible. 
They knew only too well from past unfortunate expe- 
riences that for a long journey like this overland you 
must take only the most necessary things and make 
haste slowly. Consequently the waggons of our friends 
carried a much lighter load than did those of most of 
the emigrants, and they travelled at the beginning of 
the journey, while the oxen were getting hardened 
to their work, many miles less a day, taking long 
rests at noon and stopping for the night early In the 
day. 

' .r became just a little im- 
•mess, especially when they 
It overtake them and pass 
promising to tell the folks In 
oming and to try to get them 
ntll they came. But Mr. Jud- 
remarks, and bade the jokers 
nia was a long way off, and 

179 ] 


Naturally Ray ? 
patient at this see- 
saw emigrant aftr 
on ahead, often t? 
California that th 
to leave some of . 
son only chuckle 
to remember th 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

to wait until they got there before they did their brag- 
ging. 

“ Now, don’t get anxious,” he said to Ray and Ar- 
thur, who, boy-like, could not help showing their impa- 
tience to get on faster. “ This is a time when the more 
haste at the start means the less speed at the end. A 
month or two from now we’ll be passing these same fel- 
lows that are crowing over us now, and they won’t 
catch up with us again neither. Now just look there,” 
and he pointed a little to one side of the trail to where 
a massive carved oak bureau lay abandoned. “ There’s 
a sample of the foolishness of them smart fellows who 
start out to haul a load of useless house-truck to Cali- 
fornia, as if it were but a mile or two out in the coun- 
try ’stead of a couple of thousand miles; and you’ll 
find old tables, bureaus, chairs, and like useless truck 
scattered ’long the trail all the way from here to the 
Sacramento. And ’twon’t be long now before you’ll be- 
gin to see the carcasses of worn-out oxen and horses and 
mules, killed by too fast driving. No, I reckon this is 
the time when it will pay this company to make haste 
slowly.” And with this explanation Ray and Arthur 
were forced to be content; but long before they reached 
California both boys had ample proof of the correct- 
ness of Mr. Judson’s conclusions in the hundreds of 
abandoned cattle, household goods, and odds and ends 
of all kinds that they saw scattered along both sides of 
the long trail. 

For the first few days the trail ran through a country 
of rolling prairie-lands, crossed here and there by 
streams of water hastening eastward to join the waters 
of the Missouri. Sometimes there were high bluffs 
along the banks of the streams, and frequently they 
[i8o] 


The Man Behind the Rock 

had considerable difficulty getting their waggons down 
the steep banks and across the water. But during the 
first week of the journey of our friends westward, 
nothing of sufficient importance happened to them to 
deserve special recording here. Of course, hardly an 
hour passed without Mildred and Ray and Arthur see- 
ing something interesting or novel to their unaccus- 
tomed eyes — innumerable buffalo skulls, roving bands 
of Indians seen at a distance, skulking coyotes, a few 
antelope, swiftly fleeing jack-rabbits, acres of beautiful 
wild flowers, picturesque bits of scenery — ^but while 
these were all wonderfully interesting to the children, 
they had no direct bearing upon the fortunes of our 
adventurers, and are sufficiently dwelt upon In the 
naming. It was not until the second week out from 
Independence that the serious troubles of our party 
began, and they began with the first day of that 
week. 

On this second Monday, about the middle of the 
afternoon, while Ray and Arthur and Mildred were 
off for a little gallop on their ponies a half a mile or so 
from the trail, they came to a small hill whose south- 
ern slope was thickly carpeted with the most beautiful 
and varl-coloured flowers. 

“Oh!’* cried Mildred, jumping from the back of 
her pony, “ I must have some of these beautiful flowers 
papa and Baby JImpson I Aren’t 
; delighted girl began gathering 
:’s, some of which she was con- 
In order to make room for some 

rod had tacked down a beautiful 
’ e, don’t It?” exclaimed Arthur 
[i8i] 


to take to mj 
they lovely? 
handfuls of 
stantly throw 
newly dIscov( 
“ Looks ji 
carpet over i 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

enthusiastically, as he slid from the back of Black Duke 
and joined Mildred in her flower gathering. 

“ Well, I fancy it was God that tacked down that 
carpet,’* Ray declared. “ Man couldn’t do it. I want 
a bunch of them flowers to give to Scoot and Sally,” 
and in a moment more he was off the back of Getthere 
and picking flowers with both hands. 

At last the arms and hands of the three children were 
full of the beautiful blooms, and they paused to look 
around for a convenient spot where they might arrange 
them in better shape to carry back to the waggons, 
which they could see slowly crawling along over the 
prairie some three-quarters of a mile distant. They saw 
on the very summit of the hill a huge black rock half 
as big as a house. 

“ Let’s sit down in the shade of that rock,” Arthur 
proposed, “ and tie the flowers up in bunches. I’ve got 
a lot of string in my pocket.” 

Mildred and Ray agreed, and they started at once 
for the rock, leading their ponies behind them by their 
bridle-reins. They approached the rock from the west, 
and in order to get to the shady side, they were 
obliged to walk partly around it. Ray was ahead, and 
just as he turned the almost square corner of the rock, 
a man jumped quickly up from behind it and walked 
rapidly away, carefully keeping his back turned toward 
the two boys. 

“ Hello ! ” Ray called, stopping in surprise and star- 
ing after the man. “What is your hurry? We won’t 
hurt you.” 

The man never answered a word nor turned his face 
in the least toward them, but continued to walk swiftly 
away. 


[182] 


The Man Behind the Rock 

“ Well, he don’t act as if he liked the looks of we, 
us, and company, does he ? ” Arthur inquired laughing, 
and then instantly sobering, continued: “That was 
queer, his hurrying off that way without saying a word. 
White men don’t usually treat folks that way in this 
part of the world. Who can he be? And what was he 
doing hiding there behind that rock? ” 

“ There is something familiar in his looks,” Ray de- 
clared, staring after the man, “ in the set of his shoul- 
ders — in the way he carries his head— Art,” and he 
turned excitedly to Arthur, “ look at him closely ! Look 
at him closely! Who does he make you think of? ” 
For a minute Arthur gazed inquiringly at the re- 
treating form, then his face suddenly whitened and he 
started. 

“ The man who made us dance I ” he exclaimed in 
astonishment. “ The man who made us dance 1 I’d al- 
most swear he is the man who made us dance. If I 
could only see his face — The coward I ” and his cheeks 
flushed with rage at the remembrance of the pain and 
humiliation he had suffered at the hands of that man. 
“ What can he be doing here? What was he hiding be- 
hind that rock for? He must hate Big Tom Rawlins 
worse than poison. Could he have been watching for 
him? I’m going to find out for sure who he is. Come 
on, Ray! You stay here, Mildred! ” and Arthur leaped 
on the back of Black Duke, and followed by Ray, 
started on the gallop after the man, intending to ride 
up and speak to him, so that he would be obliged to 
show his face. But before the boys had ridden five rods, 
the man whirled suddenly around, threw his rifle to 
his shoulder, and fired, the ball cutting a hole through 
the wide-brimmed felt hat worn by Arthur. 

[183] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

It needed no interpreter to translate the meaning of 
that shot. The boys understood at once that the man 
did not wish to be followed, that he did not intend to 
be followed, and they respected his wishes with a sud- 
denness that brought both of their horses back on their 
haunches. 

“The villain, the cowardly villain!” exclaimed Ar- 
thur indignantly, taking off his hat and thrusting a 
finger through the round hole in its brim. “ Six inches 
farther to the right and a little lower and that bullet 
would have gone through the top of my head,” and his 
face whitened. “ Well, I got a glimpse of his face, any- 
way, and now I am almost sure of his being the coward 
who made us dance. But what does it mean ? Why is he 
here? Why was he^so afraid that we should see who he 
was? How dared fee shoot at me? The coward! Just 
wait until I tell Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins! ” and 
the indignant boy whirled his horse around and started 
off on the gallop for the waggons, calling: “ Come on, 
quick! We’ll get Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins after 
him. They’ll soon teach him better manners.” 

Ray sat for a minute or two staring blankly after 
the man, indignant and angry, and with half a mind 
to gallop after the brute, in spite of his rifle, and tell 
him in his most vigorous English what he thought of 
him; but fortunately he did not attempt anything as 
foolhardy as that. Instead, he turned his horse and rode 
back to where Mildred had mounted and was awaiting 
him, her face white and her eyes dilating. 

“ Did that man shoot at you boys? ” she cried. “ Did 
he shoot at you ? ” 

“ That’s what he did,” Ray replied. “ The cow- 
ard!” 


[184] 


The Man Behind the Rock 

“ Just wait until I tell papa 1 Come on,” and she 
whirled Beauty around and galloped swiftly after Ar- 
thur, forgetful of the flowers she had taken so great 
a delight in gathering. 

Ray, as he turned to follow, glanced in the direction 
of the fleeing man. He had reached the top of a small 
ridge of hills, and at the moment Ray looked, he 
turned, shook his fist in his direction, and vanished 
down the opposite slope of the hill. 

When Ray looked in the direction of the waggons, 
he was surprised to see that they had been drawn up 
in a half circle and had stopped, and that the men were 
hurriedly unyoking the oxen as if to pitch camp. Almost 
at the same moment he heard a crash of distant thun- 
der, and half turning in his saddle, he saw a bluish- 
black mass of clouds rising swiftly above the southwest- 
ern horizon, backed by solid banks of gray that rolled 
upward like the folds of an' enormous theatre curtain, 
while the air was filled with the rumbling roar and 
crash of distant thunder. Across this dark mass zig- 
zagged the lightning in almost continuous flashes. 

At first there had been no wind, the air hanging ab- 
solutely motionless, but now a light breeze sprang up 
that soon became a gale. The air grew dark and darker; 
the roar of the thunder came near and nearer; the 
flashes of lightning became each moment more vivid 
and blinding; and now a sound, like the far-off beating 
of great waves against a rocky shore, reached the 
ears. It looked as if the Storm God had concentrated all 
his forces of wind and rain and lightning only to hurl 
them tumultuously across the wide expanses of these 
great plains. 

All the wild creatures of the air and the land were 
[185]. 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

affrighted and hurrying to shelter. Birds of various 
sizes went crying through the air, flying before the 
storm, now almost out of sight, again beating the tops 
of the prairie-grass with their wings; rabbits leaped 
through the grass as if the hounds of death were after 
them; coyotes flashed swiftly by, side by side, it might 
be, with an antelope; and the lesser animals of the 
ground skurried swiftly to the shelter of hole or rock 
or tree. 

Bay noticed all these signs and tokens of the com- 
ing fury of the storm indefinitely as he dug his spurs 
into the sides of Getthere and rode at full speed for 
the waggons. He had heard much of the terrible vio- 
lence arid suddenness of these plain-storms, and knew 
how greatly they were dreaded by the emigrants, and 
this knowledge, added to the terrifying sights and 
sounds already described, made him exceedingly anx- 
ious to reach the shelter of the waggons as speedily as 
possible. 

“Quick! Off with them saddles and bridles and tie 
your horses to the waggon-wheels 1 ” Mr. Judson 
shouted as the thre^^ children galloped up, at the same 
time rushing up to Mildred’s pony. “ Get into the wag- 
gon with your mother. Dimples,” he said as he lifted 
her from the saddle. “ Looks as if we were going to 
have a big blow and rain, but ’tain’t nothing to be scart 
about,” and with swift hands he began unsaddling and 
unbridling the pony, while Mildred ran to where Mrs. 
Judson was calling to her from the white depths of 
their big waggon. 

By now the oxen had all been closely hobbled and 
turned loose near the waggons, and in a few min- 
utes more the three ponies were safely tied to the 
[i86] 


The Man Behind the Bock 

waggon-wheels ; and Mr. Judson and the two boys hur- 
ried to where Jud Jimpson and Tom Rawlins were 
working like a dozen men to get the tents up before 
the fury of the storm burst down on them. 

“That bag of tent-pins, quick!” Tom Rawlins 
shouted as he and Jud Jimpson held up one of the tents 
by its poles. The other tent was already safely up. 
“ It’s going to be a regular tornado, and the rain’ll be 
dumped down in bucketfuls, and we want to keep a 
covering over our heads.” 

Ray held the pins while Mr. Judson drove them into 
the ground, and Arthur tied the tent-ropes to the pins 
as fast as they were driven into the earth. 

“Look out! Here she comes! Hold tight!” sud- 
denly shouted Mr. Judson, dropping the sledge-ham- 
mer with which he had been driving the pins and catch- 
ing hold of an unfastened tent-rope, while Ray and 
Arthur and even Scoot jumped to other unfastened 
ropes and gripped hold of them as if their lives de- 
pended on their keeping their grasp on those ropes. 

There had been a lull in the violence of the wind for 
the past few minutes until hardly a breath of air 
moved. The lightnings had ceased to flash, and only the 
low, deep, far-off roar of the advancing deluge of rain 
broke the silence of the great plain. The clouds had 
grown denser and darker, and had settled until they 
seemed to rest on the surrounding hill-tops. It was as 
if the mighty forces of Nature had paused to draw in 
long breaths, and to gather themselves for the furious 
onset soon to follow. But at the moment of Mr. 
Judson’s shout, a blinding flash of lightning leaped 
earthward from the very centre of the whirling 
storm-clouds, swiftly followed by other flashes, until 

[ 187] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the atmosphere was ablaze with vivid lights, while the 
thunder pealed and crashed and rumbled and roared in 
a most awful manner. A minute later and a violent puff 
of wind, as if blown from a monster bellows, struck 
the camp with a suddenness and force that sent every 
movable thing flying; and was followed by such a tre- 
mendous downpour of rain that it seemed as if the 
bottom must have dropped from under some aerial 
lake and allowed the water to fall in great sheets on 
the plains below. 

Unfortunately but half of the tent-pins had been 
driven into the ground and the tent-ropes fastened to 
them when the storm struck the camp in all its violence 
of wind and rain; and at the first mighty blast the tent 
went up into the air like a balloon, tearing itself free 
from the holds of Mr. Judson and the two boys, while 
one of the flying ropes twisted itself around an ankle 
of Scoot and yanked the yelling negro boy aloft 
with it. 

“ Catch it I Stop It I Grab him I ” yelled Tom Raw- 
lins; and the three men and two boys raced wildly after 
the soaring tent and dangling boy. 

The tent went flapping madly through the air some 
dozen feet above the ground, with Scoot hanging head 
downward from one of the ropes and frantically paw- 
ing the air, directly over the spot where the hobbled 
oxen had bunched together for protection from the 
storm. Scoot’s head was not six Inches above the backs 
of the cattle; and the terrified boy, ready to grab any- 
thing that promised to anchor him to the earth, seized 
hold of the long tail of one of the steers, and holding 
on for dear life, brought the now wet and heavy canvas 
down flopping on the heads of the frightened oxen. 

[i88] 


The Man Behind the Bock 

In an Instant there was the most dire confusion of 
fluttering tent-cloth and bellowing steers and yelling 
negro boy, as the frantic oxen endeavoured to escape 
from the clinging folds of the wet canvas. 

A moment later and out of this noisy jumble of 
horns and hoofs and flopping tent-cloth Scoot bounded 
and rolled, not unlike a black rubber ball, and, jumping 
to his feet, fled, yelling and clawing the air with both 
hands, to shelter under Mr. Judson’s big waggon, 
where, clinging to one of the wheels, he hugged the 
ground as closely as possible, shuddering and moaning 
at every lightning flash and thunder peal. 

For a few minutes It looked as if the frantically 
struggling oxen were sure to seriously hurt themselves 
as they plunged and tumbled and rolled over one an- 
other; but the strong rope hobbles held, and after an 
exceedingly exciting and wet ten minutes the tent-cloth 
was secured and the cattle quieted down, with no worse 
damage done than the loss of various small patches of 
hair and hide. 

“ Well, I reckon there’s no use of trying to put that 
tent up now,” and Mr. Judson glanced ruefully at the 
tangled and torn pile of dirty canvas that had been 
dragged back to its place near the waggons. “ Great 
Scott, there goes the other tent! Quick, get a hold of 
them ropes and hold her down 1 ” and he made a mad 
dive through the rain for the ropes of the tent still 
standing; but his warning came too late, for even as 
the hands of the men seized the ropes, the tent-pins 
flew out of the ground, and the wet tent collapsed on 
top of the yelling, screaming, crying JImpson family, 
who had sought shelter beneath It. 

Again the confusion was dire; but after another ten 

[189] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

minutes of equally exciting and even wetter work than 
before, the Jimpson family were rescued, wet as 
drowned rats, and stowed away in the shelter of Tom 
Rawlins’s red waggon, which was more roomy than 
their own. 

“ No use tryin’ tew get a tent up in this danged 
wind,” declared Jud Jimpson, bracing himself against 
the blasts of the hurricane. “ It’s ’nough tew blow th’ 
bugs out of a dog’s ha’r. Th’ waggon for me ’til she 
stops Mowin’,” and he humped up his back and made 
a dash for his waggon. 

“ Reckon you’re right. Come on, boys,” and Mr. 
Judson, followed most willingly by Ray and Arthur 
and Tom Rawlins, started for his waggon. When he 
reached the waggon, he paused long enough to grab 
Scoot, who still clung to the waggon-wheel under the 
waggon, by his shirt-collar and the seat of his trousers, 
and shove him in the waggon in front of him. 

“ Whew ! ” and Ray stood in the middle of the wag- 
gon-box, while the water ran in streams from his hair 
and clothes. “ I never saw a rain-storm like this before ! 
Just listen to it. Sounds as if somebody was dumping 
barrels of water on top of the waggon-cover. And the 
wind I Jee-my'-mee! I thought sure it would blow me 
clean out of my boots ! ” 

“ An’ I done spec’late I’s gwine straight to glory 
’long wid dat tent,” and Scoot stood up and shook him- 
self as if anxious to be assured that every part of him 
was where it belonged and securely fastened. “ Mighty 
lucky t’ing fo’ dis niggah dat steers am got long tails; 
mighty lucky t’ing I done cotch dat long tail. Golly! I 
done ’speck somethin’ busted up yondah,” and he 
pointed skyward. “ I ” 


[ 190] 


The Man Behind the Rock 

“ Oh, Mr. Judson,” broke in Arthur excitedly, “ a 
man shot at Ray and me, and the ball went through 
the brim of my hat! See,” and he took off his dripping 
hat and showed the bullet hole; and then he told the 
astonished Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins of the 
strange and hostile behaviour of the man behind the 
rock, and of how he and Ray thought they had recog- 
nised in him the man who had made them dance. 

Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins were both very an- 
gry; but the violence of the storm made it impossible 
for them to do anything that night to avenge the af- 
front to the boys, and by morning, who could tell where 
the man would be? However, they vowed if they ever 
“ set eyes on the coward ” again, they would teach 
him a lesson he would never forget; and there they 
were compelled to rest the matter for the present. 

A little before dark the wind quieted, but the rain 
continued to pour steadily down all night long. There 
was no warm supper that night, not even so much as 
a cup of hot coffee, for they had been forced to camp 
where there was no wood; and even if they had had 
the wood, it is doubtful if they could have made a lire 
burn in that deluge of water. The undamaged tent was 
set up again as soon as the wind permitted, and made 
as comfortable as possible for the men folks; but the 
ground was soggy with water, and a fine mist beat 
through the canvas of the tent and fell on everything 
within, and when one laid down a little pool of water 
would soon form under the body, so that ‘‘ as comfort- 
able as possible ” did not appear to mean much under 
those circumstances. 

“ Well, I reckon this is where the picnic don’t come 
in, ay boys? ” Mr. Judson said as he stood up to wring 

[ 191] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the water out of his blanket. “ I’m beginning to feel 
like a soaked sponge, as if you could squeeze water out 
of me anywhere.” 

“ Wish I had a boat,” Ray complained. “ I’m afraid 
to go to sleep for fear I will roll over and get my mouth 
under water and drown.” 

“ I am sure there’s a young ocean started under me,” 
Arthur declared; “ and if I ever get to sleep, I expect to 
dream of being a fish swimming under the ice up some- 
where near the North Pole. Wish they’d heat their 
water before they dump it down on a fellow.” 

“ Hu ! this ain’t nothin’,” grunted Jud Jimpson from 
the depths of his blanket and pool. “ You boys don’t 
know solid comfort when you see it. Jest lay still, an’ 
by-an’-by th’ water all around you’ll get warm an’ com- 
fortable, an’ then you’ll dream of sleepin’ in your ma’s 
feather-bed ’stead of swimmin’ around in water under 
th’ ice. Now I’m goin’ tew sleep,” and he settled down 
comfortably in his pool of rain-water, and was soon 
snoring as loudly as if he were indeed sleeping in 
“ mother’s feather-bed.” 

Ray and Arthur tried to follow suit; and did finally 
succeed in getting to sleep, but there was no “ mother’s 
feather-bed ” effects in their dreams. 


[ 192 ] 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 


IN THE QUICKSANDS 

T he morning dawned bright and clear, but the 
ground was soggy and the wheeling hard, 
and our friends made but little progress that 
day. They found every creek and stream swollen by 
the rain and full of mud, and the banks soft and miry 
and almost impassable. 

“ I can smell trouble down there,” and Jud Jimpson 
halted his oxen on the muddy bank of one of these 
swollen streams and looked suspiciously at the thick 
water rolling sluggishly between him and the opposite 
shore. “ I reckon one of you boys had better try that 
water first hossback,” and he turned to Ray and Ar- 
thur, who had ridden up on their ponies. 

“ All right,” promptly answered Ray. “ We’ll both 
give her a try. Come on. Art. We’ve got to cross any- 
way, and it might as well be first as last. Get up, Get- 
there,” and he started down the bank with Arthur rid- 
ing along by his side. 

Both horses were accustomed to crossing streams — 
they had waded through many during the past week — 
and they entered the water readily. The stream was 
about a dozen yards wide, and so thick with mud fhat 
it was impossible to see its bottom. The water was not 
deep, hardly up to the horses’ bellies. 

[ 193 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“It’s all right I Come on!” Ray shouted back to 
Mr. Jimpson, half turning in his saddle; and then he 
felt a quiver run through Getthere’s body, and the pony 
began to struggle violently, as if some vast unseen mon- 
ster had hold of his feet and was trying to pull him 
under the water. 

At the same moment Arthur’s pony commenced to 
flounder and struggle as his feet began to sink In the 
treacherous river bottom. 

“ Quicksands ! It’s quicksands 1 ” and Arthur turned 
a suddenly whitened face to Ray. “ Get up. Black 
Duke 1 Get up 1 ” and he began digging his spurs Into 
his pony flanks and striking him with the small whip 
he carried. “ That’s a good boy, get up 1 Don’t give up 1 
Splendid 1 Splendid I Get up 1 Get up 1 1 Get up 1 1 1 — 
Oh, he’s stuck! — He’s sinking! — Oh, what shall we 
do? — Help! Help! We’re In the quicksands! ” and he 
turned In his saddle and stretched out his arms appeal- 
ingly toward the shore. “ Save Black Duke ! Don’t let 
him go down ! Save him ! ” He had no thought of his 
own peril. 

In the meantime Ray and his horse were In equal 
danger, with the pony’s feet stuck fast In the quick- 
sands and his body slowly, slowly sinking down, down 
into the clinging, grasping, pulling sands. 

Desperately the two horses struggled to release their 
feet from the clutch of the death-sands. Great patches 
of white foam fell from their jowls and floated away 
on the black water. Their bodies steamed with sweat 
and quivered with distress and terror. They turned 
their heads, and their wild eyes looked appealingly 
toward their young masters. But every effort they made 
appeared only to sink them deeper, to give the fiend 

[ 194] 


In the Quicksands 

below renewed strength of hold, to hasten the inevi- 
table terrible end. 

“ Get off their backs ! Get off their backs ! ” shouted 
Jud Jimpson, rushing to his waggon for the long rope 
which every wise emigrant carried with him for just 
such emergencies as this. “ Can’t you see that your 
weight is helping to sink them? Get off their backs an’ 
float in th’ water beside them. Don’t put a foot on th’ 
bottom I ” 

Ray and Arthur instantly slipped off the backs of the 
ponies into the muddy stream and attempted to keep 
afloat by swimming ; but the water was only about three 
feet deep, and it is not easy to swim in that depth of 
water. 

“ Rest one hand on the saddle and let the body float 
out on the water I ” shouted Mr. Judson, rushing 
down the bank. “ Keep cool, and don’t put a foot on 
the bottom, and we’ll have you all safely out in a 
jiffy.” 

“ Catch hold of the rope I ” and Jud Jimpson ran 
down to the bank, a long rope coiled around his left 
arm, and with a vigorous swing of his right arm, cast 
one end of the rope to Arthur. “ Tie it tew th’ pommel 
of your saddle an’ tie it stout; an’ then take hold of th’ 
rope an’ pull yourself tew shore, an’ keep your feet off 
th’ bottom,” he warned. 

“ Here you be ! ” called Tom Rawlins ' cheerily, 
swinging the rope he had brought with him from his 
waggon around his head and throwing it to Ray. 
“ Take a diamond-hitch with it around the horn of 
your saddle and pull yourself to shore, and we’ll fasten 
a yoke of oxen to the rope and yank your horse out in 
no time. Now just keep cool. There’s no danger, only 

[ 195 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the muddy water, and that’ll wash off,” and he laughed 
loudly. 

Arthur quickly seized the rope thrown to him, and 
in two minutes had it firmly tied to the pommel of his 
stout, double-cinched. Western saddle, made to with- 
stand almost any strain, carefully keeping his feet from 
touching the treacherous bottom as he did so. This 
done, he turned to Black Duke. 

“ Don’t think I’m deserting you, old boy,” he said. 
“ Don’t think I’m deserting you, because I am not. 
Just keep up your courage a few minutes longer and 
we’ll have you out of here in spite of all the quicksands 
west of the Big Muddy,” and seizing hold of the rope 
which Jud Jimpson held taut, he began pulling himself 
hand over hand through the water toward the shore. 

In the meantime Ray had tied his rope to the horn 
of his saddle; but forgetful of his own peril in his anx- 
iety to save his horse, he had allowed his feet to rest 
on the bottom during the few moments he stood by the 
side of the pony tying the rope to the saddle; and so 
swiftly and insidiously did the sand seize hold of its 
prey that when he turned to grasp the rope to pull 
himself ashore, he found both feet immovable, and 
knew by the pressure around his legs that the death- 
sand was already above his knees, that he was still 
sinking. 

It would be impossible to describe the cold chill of 
horror that went through Ray’s young body when he 
discovered his peril. For the moment he forgot the 
nearness of help, forgot everything but the death-grip 
of the sand; and with a cry of consternation, he caught 
hold of the rope and desperately struggled to tear him- 
self from that fatal hold that was slowly drawing him 
[196] 


In the Quicksands 

down, down to a most horrible death. But his utmost 
efforts could not loosen the grip of the sand by the 
smallest fraction of an inch, could not even stay the 
steady resistless downpull. 

“ Keep quiet I Keep quiet! ” It was Big Tom Raw- 
lins’s cheery voice that recalled him to his senses. 
“Quit your thrashing around like a locoed steer! 
’Twill only muddy the water and make you sink all the 
faster. We’ll have another rope here in a minute and 
snake you out so quick that it’ll take your breath away, 
if you don’t hold on to it good and hard, so don’t get 
scarey.” 

“ All right,” Ray called back, his panic all over. 
“ Me and Getthere will wait right here; and we’ll 
promise not to do any more mad prancing about with 
our feet, won’t we, Getthere?” and he stroked his 
pony’s neck affectionately. 

“ Here, catch this rope and tie it around your body 
under your arms,” called Mr. Judson as he flung Ray 
one end of the rope he had raced back to his waggon 
to procure. 

Ray deftly caught the rope and quickly secured it 
around his waist. 

Tom Rawlins and Mr. Judson and Jud Jimpson 
and even Mildred and her mother and Scoot seized 
hold of the other end of the rope. 

“ Ready? ” called Tom Rawlins. 

“ Yes,” answered Ray. 

“Heave, ho! Heave, ho! All together! ” yelled the 
giant, putting forth all of his great strength, heartily 
seconded by each of the others. 

The rope tightened with a jerk under Ray’s shoul- 
ders; and for one fearful moment he feared that the 

[ 197] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

terrible strain would pull his body from his legs, so 
tenaciously did the sand cling to them; and then all of 
a sudden the sand seemed to let go, and he shot up as 
if propelled from a catapult, and landed head first into 
the water and mud a dozen feet away from where he 
had been standing, and was quickly hauled, spluttering 
and blowing mud and water from his mouth, to the 
shore. 

The moment Ray was safely ashore the three men 
dropped the rope, and hurriedly fastened a yoke of 
the strongest oxen to each of the ropes tied to the pom- 
mels of the saddles on the two ponies. Time was most 
precious. The horses were sinking fast, and every mo- 
ment made the task of getting them out more difficult. 

“ Well, I hope Getthere don’t land on his head in 
the mud the way I did,” Ray remarked, wiping the 
mud and water from his face and hair with a towel Mil- 
dred had brought him, as he watched the hitching of 
the oxen to the ropes. “ It’s a mighty nasty landing 
place for a respectable horse like Getthere,” and he dug 
something less than a shovelful of dirt out of one of 
his ears with his finger and flung it disgustedly on the 
ground. “ I feel as if I had swallowed an island.” 

“ Look ! Look ! ” exclaimed Arthur, who was aid- 
ing Mildred scrape the mud off Ray’s clothes. “ There 
go the oxen I Now — ” and he paused breathless, his 
eyes fixed on Black Duke. 

“ Oh I Oh I ” and Mildred clapped her hands to- 
gether joyously. “ They’re both out ! They’re both out ! 
My, but didn’t they make the water fly when they 
landed on their backs ! ” 

Ray and Arthur ran to the two horses the moment 
they stood, trembling and shaking themselves, on dry 
[198] 


In the Quicksands 

land, and regardless of the mud and water with which 
they were covered, threw their arms, each around the 
neck of his own horse, and told them in boyish words 
of endearment how glad they were that they had es- 
caped from their terrible peril. 

“ Hello 1 ” yelled a man from the opposite bank, 
who had seen their trouble from where he was encamped 
a quarter of a mile farther up the stream and had hur- 
ried to their assistance. “ You can’t cross there. The 
storm yesterday spoiled that crossing. The new ford’s 
’bout a hundred rods up the stream. Drive along on top 
of the bank, and I’ll show you where the crossing is 
safe. Narrow escape them boys had. Two oxen and a 
horse went down in them sands not more’n three hours 
ago. Drive right along on top of the bank and I’ll yell 
when you get to the right place.” 

The ford pointed out by the obliging stranger 
proved to be safe and easy, and half an hour later our 
friends were safely across on the other side of the 
treacherous stream, a little wiser and wetter, especially 
Ray and Arthur, but none the worse for their exciting 
experience. 

“ I reckon we’d better camp right here,” declared 
Mr. Judson as the waggons halted on the top of the 
bank. “ There’s plenty of water, if ’tis muddy, and 
grass and wood along the stream, and there’s no tell- 
ing when we’d come to another place where we’d have 
plenty of wood ’long with the grass and water.” 

For the past few days they had been travelling 
through an almost treeless region, and had been obliged 
to use buffalo chips for fuel at more than one camping 
place, and the thought of camping where there would 
be plenty of good, clean wood to burn was pleasant to 

[199] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

all. Accordingly the oxen were quickly unyoked and 
hobbled and turned loose to feed on the grass, the 
three waggons drawn up in the customary half circle, 
and the two tents pitched, while Ray and Arthur and 
Scoot were sent to the ‘‘ woods ” to gather firewood 
for the stove and the camp-fire. 

Along the banks of the stream for a mile or more 
in either direction were encamped a number of parties 
of emigrants. Some of these emigrants had been there 
for several days, delayed by sickness or worn-out stock 
or broken waggons or other causes; and these all 
heartily welcomed a newcomer, and quickly gathered 
around his camp-fire to learn the latest news from the 
“ States ” and the back trail, and to swap experiences 
and tell yarns; and that night the circle around the 
camp-fire of our friends was a large one. 

Ever since reaching Independence, Ray and Arthur 
had heard terrible tales of the ravages cholera was 
making among the emigrants, and they had seen a num- 
ber of the graves of its victims along the side of the 
trail ; but here for the first time they came into the actual 
presence of the dread disease. A man and a boy had 
died with it in a camp a few rods farther up the stream 
only that day, and a woman and her child and two men 
were down with it in near-by camps; and the gloom 
and horror of these sudden deaths were in the air, and 
weighed down the spirits of the men. 

“ It’s a terrible disease,” said one of the men around 
the camp-fire. ‘‘ A fellow will be well one morning and 
maybe the next he’ll be dead — and such a death! ” and 
the man shuddered. “ That’s the way my partner, Tom 
Evans, went, as good a man as ever held a plough — 
bright and chipper in the morning, mortal sick by 
[ 200 ] 


In the Quicksands 

night, and the next morning in his coffin. That was 
enough for me. Gold is all right, but life is a mortal 
sight better. I’m going to start back for the States just 
as soon as my cattle get fit to travel. I reckon Ohio and 
the old farm is good enough for me.” 

“ I sure didn’t know what I was buckin’ up against 
when I started out to navigate one of these here prairie- 
schooners across this God-forsaken country,” grumbled 
another man, a tall, lank. New Jersey farmer. “ Wag- 
gon got stuck in one of them blamed rivers th’ first 
day, an’ had to get down to my neck in th’ mud to help 
get her out. Then th’ next day th’ tarnal oxen stam- 
peded an’ tipped over th’ old schooner an’ spilled all 
th’ truck out on th’ prairie, an’ afore we could get th’ 
blamed cattle corralled th’ Lord dumped a thunder- 
storm down on top of us in barrelfuls an’ soaked every- 
thing, an’ we had to sleep in th’ mud that night, with 
th’ tarnal mosquitoes so thick you could cut them out 
of th’ air in chunks with a knife. An’ that’s ’bout th’ 
way things have been goin’ with us ever since ; an’ them 
that knows says that what we’ve had is ’bout like a 
bed of roses to what is to come afore we reach Cali- 
forny. I reckon I wasn’t built for that sort of thing, an’ 
it’s back to New Jersey for me, jest as fast as th’ 
Lord’ll let me go,” he ended in disgust. 

Nearly all spoke in a like vein. The sickness, the un- 
expected disasters and discouragements and hardships, 
the continual reports of worse to come, intermingled 
with rumours of the terrible massacres of whole trains 
of emigrants by the Indians beyond Fort Laramie, had 
had such a chilling effect on the heat of their gold 
fevers that nearly all were ready to turn back in dis- 
gust, and return to the more quiet, more comfortable, 

[ 201 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and safer lives of the shop or farm, which they had left 
with such golden hopes but a few short weeks before. 
What else could be expected from men, who, without 
previous knowledge or fitting preparation, had rashly 
undertaken a journey that would try the courage and 
endurance of men inured to all its hardships and perils 
and backed by years of experience in the wilds of what 
was then known as the Great American Desert ? 


[ 202 ] 


CHAPTER NINETEEN 


THE PAWNEE HORSE-THIEF 

I N the morning there were two funerals. One of 
the sick men and the woman had died during the 
night, and two more men were down with the 
dread disease, one of them being the tall, lank. New 
Jersey farmer, who had spoken so discouragingly the 
night before and had been so anxious to get back to 
his old home. Alas, poor man ! he was doomed to leave 
his bones, along with many others, by the side of that 
lonely California trail. 

Our friends remained to attend the funerals. Two 
graves were dug a little to one side of the trail, on the 
brow of a small hill, the bodies placed in rudely fash- 
ioned coffins, a short service held; and then the two 
coffins were lowered into their graves, tEe graves filled 
up even with the ground, and heavy split logs laid lon- 
gitudinally across the tops and weighed down with 
large stones, to keep the wolves from digging up the 
bodies. And thus they were left in that wild waste, 
without even a name to preserve their remembrance. 
Alas, how differently hope had pictured their fate! 

“ That was the lonesomest funeral I ever saw,” Mil- 
dred said, wiping the tears from her eyes as she walked 
by the side of her mother back to camp. “ I hope that 
no one that I love will ever have to be buried that way. 
[ 203 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

It makes me almost sick to think of the poor woman 
lying there all alone in this wild wilderness,” and the 
tender-hearted girl shuddered as her eyes roamed over 
the vast expanse of almost barren plains that sur- 
rounded the two desolate graves. 

“ But, my dear child,” replied Mrs. Judson, “ you 
must not think of the woman as lying in that lonely 
grave. The body which you saw buried was only the 
house in which she had lived and from which she had 
moved, let us hope, into a far more beautiful home. 
Death is but the soul’s moving-time, when it leaves its 
worn-out dwelling-place to live in a better house. But 
we must hurry. See, your father has the oxen already 
yoked to the waggon,” and she pointed to their little 
camp, anxious to turn Mildred’s mind from the sad 
scene she had just witnessed, where everything was in 
readiness to continue their journey. 

Mrs. Judson had remained a short time after the 
funeral to give the comfort of her woman’s presence 
to the wife of the dead man, whose grief and despair 
were pitiful; and in the meantime the men had yoked 
up the oxen and made ready to depart, eager to get 
away from this scene of despondency and discourage- 
ment. 

“ I swun th’ gloom that hangs over that camp ’most 
tew thick tew knock a hole in it, even with a forty-ton 
pile-driver,” Jud Jimpson grumbled to Ray and Arthur 
and Mildred, who were riding near him, as he strode 
along by the side of his oxen. “ I wonder if they ex- 
pected tew find hotels, with feather-beds an’ porter- 
house steaks an’ waitin’ -maids an’ all such truck, 
strung all ’long th’ trail awaitin’ tew welcome them 
each night I Th’ tarnal idjits, they’d a-better stayed tew 
[204] 


The Pawnee Horse-Thief 

home measurin’ calico or hoeing ’taters, ’stead of 
cornin’ out here an’ blamin’ th’ country lor what they 
don’t know. ’Tain’t th’ country; ’tis their own danged 
ignerance. If they hadn’t overloaded and overdriven 
their oxen they wouldn’t be all footsore an’ worn out 
now. If they’d knowed how tew take care of themselves 
an’ had brought th’ proper kind of grub ’long with 
them, there’d been no trouble with th’ cholera. This 
ain’t no picnic excursion, as I’ve been a-tellln’ you kids, 
an’ them idjits are lindin’ It out, an’ now they want tew 
go home tew ma, an’ they’d better go home tew ma, an’ 
stay home with ma,” he ended, his disgust too great for 
further words. 

For the next few days our friends travelled up the 
valley of the Little Blue, a swift, crooked stream flow- 
ing between ridges seldom more than a mile or two 
apart, with banks fringed here and there with growths 
of cottonwoods and willows. The grass here was abun- 
dant, the weather delightful, the trail for the most part 
easy wheeling, and under these benign Influences, the 
gloom of their recent experiences with death and dis- 
couragements soon vanished, and the children became 
their own happy selves again. 

They were now passing through the country of the 
Pawnees, the boldest and most cunning thieves of all 
the Western tribes of Indians, and reports were con- 
tinually coming In of trouble between them and the emi- 
grants. Horses and cattle were stolen, sometimes liter- 
ally from under the very noses of the unsophisticated 
emigrants, and there were ugly rumours afloat of lonely 
emigrants waylaid and massacred and all their goods 
and cattle stolen and their waggons burned. 

And now it was that Ray and Arthur learned the 
[ 205 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

truth of Mr. Judson’s words when he told them that 
they would have their fill of guard duty when they 
reached the Indian country. They were obliged to stand 
guard a part of every night; for even when the horses 
were picketed and the oxen hobbled within a few feet 
of the tents and the camp-fire, it was necessary to keep 
a constant guard over them for fear the red thieves 
would creep up, under shelter of the darkness, loosen 
a number of horses, and quietly slip away with them. 
Then, too, they had to be continually on their guard 
against a stampede. A number of Indians would steal 
quietly up to within a short distance of a sleeping camp 
of emigrants, and then suddenly yelling and waving 
their blankets and firing off their guns, would ride pell- 
mell down upon the camp, driving off with them as 
many of the terrified cattle and horses as succeeded in 
breaking away from their fastenings, throwing the 
whole camp into the greatest terror and confusion, and 
usually getting away with their booty before the as- 
tounded emigrants could fire a gun at them. This was 
called a stampede ; and was frequently so successful that 
many an unfortunate emigrant lost all his live-stock at 
one fell swoop, and was left stranded on the plains until 
rescued by his fellow-travellers. 

Ray and Arthur soon found that standing guard dur- 
ing the darkness and silence of the night hours, not 
knowing at what moment an Indian arrow might come 
hurtling out of the surrounding darkness to bury itself 
in your body, or a band of yelling, shooting savages 
burst like a thunderbolt upon the camp, was an exceed- 
ingly ticklish and lonesome duty to perform; but both 
lads were brave and plucky fellows, and neither so 
much as hinted that he would like to be excused from 
[ 206 ] 


The Pawnee Horse-Thief 

doing his share of the guard duty. Indeed, both boys 
would have been very angry had any one proposed such 
a thing to them. They would have considered it a re- 
flection upon their courage, and resented it promptly 
and vigorously. 

“ Now, Ray, just keep your eyes peeled and your 
ears open,’’ Mr. Judson said as Ray was making him- 
self ready to go on guard the fourth night out from the 
cholera camp. “ And don’t stand where the light from 
the camp-fire can fall on you. Keep your body in the 
dark and your eyes on the waggons and horses, and 
don’t let anything come nigh them. Shoot at anything 
that looks the least suspicious. Better to lose a rifle ball 
than the horses. Them Boston fellows ahead of us had 
two of their best horses stolen from under their very 
noses last night by them pesky Pawnee thieves, and it 
was about here that a party of emigrants were attacked 
a few days ago by Indians and two men killed and a 
number wounded. So don’t take any chances. Shoot at 
anything suspicious, even if you do rout out the camp. 
Tom Rawlins has the guard with you, and he’s stand- 
ing over yonder by the oxen,” and Mr. Judson pointed 
to where a number of dark shadows showed where the 
oxen were lying down. “ You’re to keep your eyes on 
the horses and the waggons, and had better stand there, 
back of Jud’s waggon, where you can see all the wag- 
gons and horses and be in the dark yourself. Don’t 
move ’round much, or if there are any savages spying 
’round, they’ll spot you. Now, keep cool, and your eyes 
and ears open,” and Mr. Judson stepped into the tent, 
leaving Ray to his lonely and dangerous vigils. 

The night was moonless and hazy, and just dark 
enough to make an object a couple of rods away look 
[ 207 ] 


The Boy I Forty-Niners 

shadowy and unreal ; and Ray could not but help think- 
ing, as he took his station back of the waggon and 
glanced around, how easy it would be for an Indian to 
creep silently up within bowshot, and he shuddered at 
the thought, send his swift and silent arrow straight 
through his body. But as the slow minutes passed, until 
an hour or more had gone by, and he had seen nothing 
more dangerous than a coyote or two skulking hungrily 
near the waggons, and had heard nothing more sus- 
picious than the yelpings and bowlings of that same 
ever-present animal, he began to feel more secure, and 
even to relax just a little his watchfulness, while, in 
spite of his utmost efforts, his eyelids began to grow 
heavy, and presently his vision became so blurred and 
indistinct with sleep that he failed to see, or at least to 
notice, how suspiciously one of the coyotes was begin- 
ning to act. 

This animal had been skulking in the grass not far 
from Ray for some little time, gradually working 
nearer and nearer all the time to the waggons, to whose 
wheels the three horses were tied within the half circle 
formed by the waggons, and frequently pausing to 
glance with more than wolfish intentness in the direc- 
tion of Ray. When Ray’s head began to nod a little 
now and then, and his body to lean more heavily on the 
butt of his rifle, the coyote became even bolder, and 
stole up close to the middle waggon, where it stopped 
for a moment to glance sharply at Ray, and then glided 
softly under the waggon and vanished from sight. A 
few minutes later Getthere appeared to have broken 
loose from his fastenings, for he began slowly work- 
ing his way toward the open space between the two 
outer waggons, keeping to the farther side of where 
[ 208 ] 


The Pawnee Horse-Thief 

Ray stood and moving so cautiously that his feet made 
no sound on the soft prairie sod. 

Ray continued to nod and to lean more heavily on 
his rifle, but suddenly he overbalanced himself and 
nearly fell, and awoke with a start just as Getthere 
passed beyond the outer waggon. Ray rubbed his eyes 
vigorously, glanced around, and saw dimly in the dark- 
ness a shadowy horse moving away from the camp. 
For a moment he could not believe his eyes; and then, 
concluding that one of the horses must have broken 
loose, he started toward the animal, softly calling, 
“ Whoa ! Whoa ! ” and got the scare of his life, when 
an arrow whistled through his coat-sleeve and an Indian 
with a loud whoop leaped on thd back of the horse and 
dashed off at full speed. 

“ Whoa ! Help ! Stop him I Murder ! Indians ! ” 
yelled Ray, blindly throwing his rifle to his shoulder 
and firing in the direction of the fleeing Indian. 

The Indian, doubtless hoping to stampede the oxen 
and thus secure one or more of them, rode straight 
toward the cattle, whooping at the top of his voice and 
waving his blanket; but he had failed to take Big Tom 
Rawlins into his calculations, who at the first outcry 
had whirled around, his rifle to his shoulder; and now 
as the Indian came tearing down upon him, he aimed 
as best he could in the darkness and fired, and drop- 
ping his rifle, sprang at the horse’s head. Fortunately 
his right hand caught hold of the halter, and held on 
with a grip that brought the pony back on his haunches 
and sent the Indian flying over his head. The red-skin 
landed on his feet like a cat, and with a final whoop 
swiftly vanished in the darkness. 

Instantly the whole camp was in the wildest turmoil. 
[ 209 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

The oxen bellowed with fright and struggled madly to 
free themselves from their hobbles; the two remaining 
ponies jerked and pulled at their fastenings frantically; 
Mr. Judson and Jud Jimpson leaped out of their blank- 
ets and rushed, rifles in hands, from the tent, followed 
by Arthur and Scoot, whose teeth were clattering 
against one another like Spanish castanets ; the Jimpson 
family screamed and cowered in their tent; and Mil- 
dred and her mother thrust their white faces out 
through the waggon-opening, nearly frightened out of 
their wits by the dreadful clamour of yells and shots 
and bellowings and screams. 

Half an hour later, when all had quieted down and 
Ray, with flushed cheeks, had told the story of how 
his own neglect of duty had given the Indian his op- 
portunity, Jud Jimpson crawled under the middle wag- 
gon, the one to which Getthere had been tied, and pres- 
ently crawled back again, dragging behind him the 
skin, head and all, of a coyote. 

“ There’s all that’s left of your Indian,” he said, 
throwing the skin down at the feet of Ray. “ An’ many 
an older eye than yourn has been fooled afore now by 
that same devil’s contraption, so jest — Hello! what’s 
that dangling from th’ back of your coat?” and Jud 
Jimpson stepped quickly up to Ray, who now stood 
where the light of the camp-fire shone full on him, and 
jerked out the arrow, that after passing through the 
sleeve had pierced the side of Ray’s coat and now hung 
dangling from his back, caught in the cloth by the 
feathers on its haft. “ Well, now, that’s what I calls 
perlite, tew stop tew leave you his card, an’ he bein’ in 
a hurry, tew,” and he handed the arrow to Ray, at the 
same time catching hold of his coat and examining the 
[ 210 ] 


The Pawnee Horse-Thief 

holes made by the arrow. “ Not a skin scratch I ” and 
he slapped Ray on the back. “You’re a lucky dog! 
Them red devils’ arrows don’t always jest make holes 
in a feller’s coat, as my own hide might testify, bein’ it 
had a tongue.” 

“ I’ll just keep this,” Ray said as he took the long, 
steel-pointed arrow that had come so near passing 
through his body as well as his coat, “ to remind me 
of what I am apt to get if I do not keep my eyes open 
when I am doing guard duty,” and he thrust the arrow 
into his belt. “ Now, I’ll go back and finish my guard, 
and I’ll keep my eyes open, too. Why, if it had not 
been for Tom Rawlins I’d have lost Getthere 1 ” and 
his eyes turned affectionately to his pony, now again 
safely tied to the waggon-wheel. “ And all on account 
of my own carelessness 1 ” 

“ And, mayhap, something far dearer than horse- 
flesh, my boy,” and Mr. Judson’s eyes turned to the 
waggon where Mildred and her mother had again re- 
tired. “ Don’t forget them, Ray; and it will do more 
to keep your eyes open than that Indian arrow stick- 
ing in your belt.” 

“ I won’t forget again,” and Ray hung his head. “ I 
won’t forget again. I’ve had my lesson,” and shoulder- 
ing his rifle, he resolutely returned to his post, while 
the others went back to their blankets and slept in peace 
during the remainder of the night. 


[ 2II ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY 


THE devil’s quartet 

O N the afternoon of the next day our friends 
passed from the valley of the Little Blue, 
over the ridge dividing its waters from those 
of the Platte River, and encamped at night on the 
shores of that famous stream, some fifteen miles below 
Fort Kearney, a military post established only the year 
before by the United States Government to protect the 
fast-increasing overland travel to the rich lands and 
gold-fields of the Pacific slope. An early start the next 
morning enabled them to reach Fort Kearney a little 
after noon, where they were to remain in camp two or 
three days in order to rest their oxen, do some needed 
repairing, and procure a few necessary supplies. 

The camp was pitched a mile below the fort, on the 
opposite bank of the river, for the sake of grass and 
good water, which could not be procured nearer the 
post on account of the devastations of the great army 
of emigrants that had preceded them, and a part of 
whom still remained in camp near the fort. 

That afternoon Mr. Judson and Jud Jimpson 
mounted Ray’s and Arthur’s horses and rode across the 
river, which is here easily forded by man or beast, to the 
fort. Indeed, the Platte River, like a great many peo- 
ple, is not nearly as great as it appears, being a very 
[ 212 ] 


The DeviVs Quartet 

wide but a very shallow stream of water. Washington 
Irving calls it “ the most magnificent and the most use- 
less of streams,” while the celebrated humourist, Arte- 
mus Ward, expressed his opinion of the river quite as 
effectively when he declared that “ the Platte would 
be a good river if set on edge,” and Bill Nye more re- 
cently subscribed to the same views by describing the 
Platte as a river “ having a wide circulation, but little 
influence.” 

Mr. Judson and Jud JImpson returned to the camp 
a little before sundown. 

“ Who do you think is the commanding officer at 
the fort?” Mr. Judson asked, as he dismounted, turn- 
ing to Mildred and Ray and Arthur, who had hurried 
up, eager to hear about the fort. “ Somebody that you 
all know quite well, although none of you have ever 
seen him.” 

“Oh, we can’t guess! Tell us,” Mildred demanded 
impatiently. 

“ Captain Bonneville, now Colonel Bonneville,” an- 
nounced Mr. Judson. 

“ What 1 Not the Captain Bonneville that we’ve all 
been reading about, the one Washington Irving wrote 
about In that book of Mildred’s? ” and Arthur’s face 
flushed and his eyes sparkled with pleasure. 

“ That very identical Captain Bonneville,” declared 
Mr. Judson, smiling, “ as you can see with your own 
eyes and hear with your own ears to-morrow, when you 
visit the fort with me.” 

This was wonderful news to Ray and Arthur and 
Mildred, who had been deeply interested In the adven- 
tures of the doughty captain, so entertainingly de- 
scribed by the graceful pen of Irving, because many of 

[ 213 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

these adventures occurred in the very country through 
which they were to travel; and now to be able actually 
to see and to talk with the very man himself was, in- 
deed, a surprising happening, and as pleasant a hap- 
pening as it was surprising. 

Accordingly, about ten o’clock the next morning, 
Mr. Judson and the three children forded the river, 
Mr. Judson riding behind Ray on Getthere while 
crossing, and rode to the fort. 

Ray and Arthur were very much disappointed in the 
appearance of this Western military post. A fort to 
their minds meant solid walls of stone masonry, bris- 
tling with great guns; but here, both the solid stone 
walls and the great guns were wanting. There were a 
number of long, low buildings, built of adobe or sun- 
dried bricks, with flat, unsightly roofs; a large hospital 
tent; three or four storehouses and workshops, with 
canvas walls; a couple of long adobe stables, covered 
with roofs made of brush; tents for the officers and 
men; and that was all. 

“ Well, that don’t look much like a fort,” Ray said 
disappointedly as the little party rode up to these 
buildings. “ ’Twouldn’t take much of a cannon to 
knock it all to smithereens.” 

“ Correct,” replied Mr. Judson, smiling. “ But see- 
ing that Indians don’t indulge none much in cannons, 
there’s little danger of its getting knocked to smith- 
ereens or anywhere else by cannons.” 

At the entrance to the fort they were met by a 
middle-sized, compactly built man, whose frank, open 
countenance, well browned by the sun, was enlivened 
by a pair of pleasant black eyes set below a high fore- 
head. When he lifted his hat to Mildred, he uncovered 
[ 214] 


The DeviVs Quartet 

a bald crown that shone whitely in contrast to the 
bronzed skin of his face and neck. 

“ These three children,” Mr. Judson said after he 
had introduced Mildred and the two boys to Colonel 
Bonneville, ‘‘ have all read the story of your adven- 
tures as related by Washington Irving, and are over- 
joyed to be able to meet the hero of them.” 

“ I fear that the story owes most of its fascination 
to the skill of my friend Irving,” Colonel Bonneville 
replied modestly. “ And yet, it was a wonderful jour- 
ney! a wonderful journey! ” and his dark eyes lighted 
up with the glow of his brave, adventurous soul. “ And 
this journey of yours to the gold mines of California 
will be a wonderful journey. Do you know,” and he 
turned to Mr. Judson, “ every time a train of emigrants 
passes through here, bound for the gold mines, I am 
tempted to throw up my commission and join them? 
And I would if I did not feel it my duty to serve here, 
where an armed force is sadly needed for the protection 
of these gold-mad men, women, and children, who are 
hurrying to California from every quarter of the globe, 
the majority of them utterly ignorant of the country 
and its perils. My boys,” and he turned to Ray and 
Arthur with a smile, “ I envy you your trip, especially 
since you are to make it with such agreeable company ” 
— and he bowed gallantly to Mildred — “ as I am sure 
this young lady’s and her mother’s will prove to be.” 

Mildred flushed with pleasure, and thanked Colonel 
Bonneville very prettily for his courtesy, and told him 
how greatly the story of his adventures had interested 
her and the boys, and how delighted she was to be able 
to see him and to talk to him, and how she wished it 
were possible for him to go with them to California; 

[215] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

while Ray and Arthur stood by, and stammered out a 
word now and then, and looked with admiration at the 
hero of Irving’s book, and with wonder at Mildred, 
who could talk so easily and brightly to so distinguished 
a man. 

Colonel Bonneville showed them around the post, all 
the time keeping up an interesting conversation with 
Mr. Judson about the country through which they were 
to pass and its wild inhabitants, and giving him much 
valuable information. When the time came to say good- 
bye, he gave to each of the boys a strong-bladed hunt- 
ing-knife, and a pair of beautifully decorated Indian 
moccasins to Mildred. 

“ A slight testimonial, as they would say in the Far 
East,” he said, smiling, “ of my appreciation of a most 
delightful visit with three most delightful children.” 

“ Isn’t he great? ” Mildred affirmed as they rode 
away from the fort back to the camp. 

“You bet!” was Ray’s emphatic way of showing 
his approval of the sentiment and of Colonel Bonne- 
ville. “ He’s one of those men who can do things with- 
out bragging about them. I didn’t hear anything that 
sounded the least like a brag from him all the time we 
were talking with him — Hello, Art! What’s the mat- 
ter? ” for Arthur, who was riding close by his side, had 
suddenly reached out and caught hold of his arm. 
“ Look out, or you’ll pull me off my horse ! ” 

“See there! There’s Slim George!” and Arthur 
pointed to a blacksmith’s shop that stood a few rods 
from the buildings of the fort and near the open door 
of which two men stood talking, while a couple of 
mules were being shod by the blacksmith. “ I wonder 
who he is talking with? I’m going to tell Mr. Judson,” 
[216] 


The DeviVs Quartet 

and Arthur hurried back to Mr. Judson, who was a 
couple of rods behind, and pointed out the two men. 
As he did so a third man stepped out of the shop and 
joined the men near the door. 

Arthur and Mr. Judson both started at the sight of 
this third man, and their eyes flashed angrily, for they 
had at once recognised him as the man of the danc- 
ing episode in Independence, and the thought of that 
hostile ball that had passed through Arthur’s hat had 
come to both. 

“ Looks as if all our enemies were getting together, 
don’t it?” Mr. Judson questioned. “That gambler 
and that whisky-barrel rider fellow I reckon don’t have 
any love for you boys and Tom Rawlins, and the 
other man is Tom Pike, Scoot’s old master, and I 
reckon he hates me ’bout as bad as he does poison since 
I knocked him down and made him sign Scoot’s free 
papers — the miserable sneak-thief. I wonder how them 
three got together, and why they’re together? ” and 
Mr. Judson looked troubled. “ Now, if Mildred wasn’t 
along we’d stop to show your friend that hole in your 
hat and ask him to explain how he came to put it there ; 
but being that we’ve got Dimples with us, I reckon 
we’d better hurry back to camp, and Tom Rawlins and 
I will return and try and hold a conflab with this inter- 
esting trio. I don’t like the three of them being to- 
gether,” and again the troubled look came back on 
Mr. Judson’s face. “ There, they’ve seen us, and 
they’ve recognised us all right. Ride right along and 
act as if you didn’t know them, or I am afraid they’ll 
get scary and light out before Tom and I can get 
back.” 

. The three men, the moment they caught sight of the 
[217] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Judson party, turned their backs toward them and 
hurriedly entered the shop. Evidently they did not wish 
to be seen. This in itself was suspicious, and when 
taken in connection with the facts that one of the men, 
Tom Pike, had already attempted to rob the waggon of 
Mr. Judson, and that another, the gambler, had appar- 
ently followed him ever since he boarded the steam- 
boat on the Ohio River, caused Mr. Judson far more 
anxiety than he cared to show. But if he could have 
overheard the conversation of the men a few minutes 
later when they stepped out of the shop away from 
the ears of the blacksmith after he and the children had 
passed from sight over the brow of a small hill, he 
would have made several startling discoveries that 
would have tended still more to increase his anxiety. 

There were four men when they came out of the 
shop. Mike, Tom Pike’s partner, who had been watch- 
ing the blacksmith shoe the mules, had joined them, 
and the devil’s quartet was complete. 

“ And so you know that long-legged fellow hoof- 
ing it behind the kids?” Tom Pike inquired of the 
gambler the moment they were out of earshot of the 
blacksmith. 

“ That I do,” replied Slim George. “ I know him, 
and I know them kids, and I know that big bull they 
call Tom Rawlins who is travelling with them, and I 
hate them all, especially the bull and the taller boy. 
But,” and his small eyes snapped vindictively, “ there’s 
too good fishing there to disturb the water until we’ve 
caught the fish. That ” — and he lowered his voice 
and glanced sharply toward the blacksmith — “ that is 
the man Pve been telling you about.” 

“ What! ” and Tom Pike whirled around and glared 
[218] 


The DeviVs Quartet 

at the hill over whose brow Mr. Judson had just van- 
ished. “Not the fellow that’s got the twenty-five thou- 
sand dollars stowed away somewhere in his waggon 
that we’ve been planning to confiscate?” 

“ Yes, that’s him.” 

“ Wh-h-e-w ! Mike and I had our hooks in that 
waggon once!” and Tom Pike looked his astonish- 
ment and chagrin. 

“ Twenty-five thousand dollars 1 ” and Mike’s red 
face became redder and his round eyes rounder. “ Do 
you remember that little chist I was ’bout to hand you 
when that little black devil grabbed you around th’ 
legs an’ began to yell? I reckoned then as how it was 
th’ old man’s cash-box. Twenty-five thousand dollars! 
An’ to think I held it in these two hands an’ dropped 
it like a scart kid! ” and Mike’s face pictured the dis- 
gust he felt at the idiocy that had allowed twenty-five 
thousand dollars to slip so easily through his fingers. 

“ But it isn’t lost yet, boys,” Slim George reminded 
them. “ If we play our cards right we’ll hold the 
twenty-five thousand dollars yet.” 

“ Oh, we’ll get the cash before they get to Cali- 
fornia, all right,” Tom Pike affirmed confidently, “ and, 
in addition. I’m counting on working out on his hide 
a little debt I owe that long-legged cuss.” 

“ Same here,” Mike echoed. 

“ Me, too,” laughed Slim George. “ Well, it’s mighty 
queer, but we all seem to owe that gang a grudge. 
Even Bud Wilkes here glared at the two boys as if 
he would like to eat them both raw,” and he turned 
to the man who had fired the ball through Arthur’s 
hat. 

“ I could eat them raw,” Bud Wilkes acquiesced 
[219] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

savagely. “ ’Twill take more than the twenty-five thou- 
sand dollars to even up matters between me and that 
bull-like giant. I’ll have his blood,” and his snake- 
like eyes flamed as he thought of the humiliation and 
pain Big Tom Rawlins had caused him. “ I’ll have his 
blood!” 

At this moment the blacksmith called from his shop 
that the mules were ready. 

“ Good I Now, I fancy, it will be healthy for us to 
get out of this neighbourhood some lively. I am sure 
they recognised us, and I wouldn’t be surprised if 
Longlegs and Tom Rawlins hurried back after us as 
soon as the children are safe in camp, and so we’d bet- 
ter do the vanishing act and do it lively. Come on,” 
and Slim George hastened into the shop after the 
mules, which were quickly hitched to the light spring 
waggon. 

The four men climbed into the waggon and drove 
rapidly away, going in almost the opposite direction 
from that taken by Mr. Judson and the children, and 
thus it happened that when, half an hour later, Mr. 
Judson and Tom Rawlins rode up to the blacksmith- 
shop on the backs of Black Duke and Getthere, not a 
sign of the four rascals was to be seen, and our friends 
were obliged to return to their camp with their mission 
unsatisfied. 


[ 220 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 


buffalo! buffalo! 

M any of the emigrants, discouraged and dis- 
heartened by their experiences In reaching 
Fort Kearney, and frightened by the fearful 
tales of what was yet to come, quit the trail here and 
started back for God’s country, as they now called the 
land of civilisation they had left but a few short 
weeks before, selling or giving away or abandoning 
everything they had brought with them except what 
was needed for the return trip, while the majority of 
those who continued on the trail had found out by 
this time that they had started with more than they 
could carry, and now disposed of everything they 
thought they could possibly spare at any price they 
could get. Consequently our friends found no trouble 
whatever In procuring anything they needed at Fort 
Kearney, and at astonishingly low prices; flour and 
bacon, for example, selling at one cent per pound. 

Four additional horses and two more yokes of oxen 
were bought here from disgusted and returning emi- 
grants, the oxen and horses reshod, the waggon tires 
set, and everything put in the best possible shape for 
the continuance of the journey, which was begun again 
on the third morning after their arrival at the post. 
The trail now ran along through the Platte Valley 
[ 221 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and the two forks of the Platte for many miles. This 
valley, in the “ good old days,” as Jud Jimpson was 
never tired of calling them, was the favourite feeding 
place of vast herds of buffaloes that sometimes liter- 
ally packed the valley from ridge to ridge, and the 
boys had listened to many exciting tales of the great 
buffalo hunts that had taken place here; and conse- 
quently, ever since they had entered the Platte Valley, 
they had been on the lookout for buffalo. But as day 
after day passed without a sign of a live buffalo — the 
ground was covered with bones and skulls and buffalo 
chips that told eloquently of the vastness of the herds 
that once had made their home here — Ray and Arthur 
began to fear that they would get to California with- 
out that promised buffalo hunt, while the disgust and 
rage of Jud Jimpson at this state of the buffalo coun- 
try was too great for me to even attempt its descrip- 
tion. In the old hunter’s mind the association of Platte 
Valley with plenty of buffalo meat was fixed and in- 
separable; besides he, as well as everybody else, was 
getting exceedingly tired of a constant diet of salt pork, 
or “ sow’s belly,” as he contemptuously called it, and 
all were looking forward anxiously to the time when 
they could feast on buffalo steaks and marrow-bones 
and the other buffalo dainties so highly extolled by the 
epicures of the plains. 

“ I don’t believe there are any buffalo left alive in 
all this country,” Ray grumbled one morning about a 
week after leaving Fort Kearney, as he and Arthur 
and Mildred were riding on a little ahead of the wag- 
gons. “ Just look at those buffalo skulls scattered every- 
where all over the valley, thicker than pumpkins in a 
cornfield. Why, it seems to me as if I have seen millions 
[ 222 ] 


Buffalo! Buffalo! 

and millions of buffalo skulls since leaving Fort Kear- 
ney, and they appear to be getting thicker and thicker 
every day. Looks as if some terribly fatal disease had 
killed them all off. At any rate, we haven’t seen the 
first sign of a live buffalo yet, in spite of all of Jud 
Jimpson’s promises. My, but I would like to get a shot 
at one ! ” and Ray’s hand caressed the cool, smooth 
barrel of his rifle that lay in front of him across his 
saddle. “ And I would like to kill one, they are so big 
and terrible-looking! Jud says their flesh is better eat- 
ing than that of any other critter that ever wore 
horns — Hello, there are The Mourners, and in 
camp 1 ” 

The children had now reached the summit of a small 
hill, and saw in the valley beyond the huge waggon, 
and, feeding nearby, the five yokes of black oxen 
of their gloomy friends. The Mourners, while the men 
themselves appeared to be busy over a huge camp-fire. 

“ I wonder what they are doing, and why they are 
in camp? ” Arthur questioned. “ Looks as if they were 
cooking something. Come, let’s gallop down and find 
out,” and followed by Ray and Mildred, he set out for 
the camp of The Mourners. 

At the sound of the galloping horses, one of the men 
looked up and saw the children. 

“ Hurrah 1 ” he shouted, straightening up and hold- 
ing up a long stick, one end of which was thrust through 
a huge piece of meat that he had been carefully roast- 
ing over the fire. “Buffalo! Buffalo! Hurrah!” and 
he waved the meat above his head. 

“Where? Where?” shouted back the excited chil- 
dren, hurrying up as fast as they could make their 
horses go and looking in every direction for the buffalo. 

[ 223 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Here ! Here I ” and the man held up the meat on 
the end of his stick. “ The finest roast that was ever 
eaten. Jump off your horses and have some.” 

The children accepted the invitation with alacrity, 
for it seemed months since they had had a taste of 
fresh meat of any kind, and this was buffalo meat ! The 
noisy multitudes of emigrants had driven all kinds of 
game far from the trail, and for the past week or two 
not even the skill of Jud Jimpson had been able to 
replenish their larder by so much as a single jack- 
rabbit. 

“Where did you find the buffaloes? Are there any 
left? ” Ray inquired anxiously the moment he had 
swallowed a couple of mouthfuls of the rich juicy 
meat. 

“Are there any left?” and the man laughed. 
“ Well, I don’t know ’bout there bein’ any left now, 
seein’ there was only fourteen billion, six hundred an’ 
seventy-nine million, two hundred an’ thirteen thou- 
sand, nine hundred an’ eighty-three buffalo an’ a calf 
in the herd that came mighty nigh a-transforming this 
outfit intew red prairie-mud ’bout sundown last night, 
jest over th’ top of yonder low hill,” and he pointed 
to a hill half a mile farther along on the trail. “ We 
got the calf an’ its maw an’ a young heifer, an’ came 
back here, where there’s plenty of wood an’ clean 
water, tew cook an’ dry th’ meat, for th’ Lord only 
knows when we’ll see another buffalo. Looked as if 
every livin’ buffalo on th’ face of th’ earth was in that 
there herd, an’ they were goin’ south like ten million 
locomotives, full steam on. Best meat I ever ate. Have 
some more,” and he passed the hunk of buffalo-meat 
again to the children. “Where’s th’ rest of th’ folks? 

[ 224] 


Buffalo! Buffalo! 

You’re th’ kids ’long with that scarlet fever waggin, 
ain’t you? ” 

“ Yes,” Arthur answered, laughing. “ That is, if you 
mean Tom Rawlins’s red waggon.” 

“ I reckon that’s th’ man. A big feller, that looks 
as if he’d be th’ right man tew tackle if you’re lookin’ 
for th’ wrong side of trouble.” 

“ That’s Tom Rawlins to a T,” Arthur declared 
emphatically, “ and he and the others will be along in 
a few minutes. We rode ahead. My, but this meat does 
taste good ! ” 

“ Have some more,” and the man sliced off another 
chunk of the roast buffalo and handed it to Arthur on 
the point of his knife. 

For a few minutes the children ate and talked, and 
talked and ate buffalo, and then Ray suddenly turned 
and sprang on the back of his horse, his face flushing 
with excitement. 

“ Come on! ” he cried. “ I’m going to see if there 
aren’t some of the buffaloes left,” and he started 
off on the gallop toward the hill that hid the plain 
beyond, where The Mourners had nearly been run 
down the night before by a stampeding herd of 
buffalo. 

Arthur and Mildred sprang on their horses, and 
shouting back their thanks to The Mourners, were 
soon galloping by the side of Ray. 

“ Oh, I do hope there are some buffalo there, even if 
it is only two or three ! ” Mildred exclaimed, as they 
galloped up the incline. “ Wouldn’t it be great news 
for Jud Jimpson? ” 

“ Slow up I Slow up ! ” warned Ray. If we dash 
over the top of the hill on the gallop, we’ll frighten 
[ 225 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

away every buffalo in sight,” and he pulled Getthere 
down to a walk. 

Very cautiously the three children now rode toward 
the summit of the hill, and when near its top they dis- 
mounted, and, tying their horses to a clump of sage- 
brush, crept the rest of the way as stealthily as three 
Indians. 

On the brow of the hill grew a thick cluster of sage- 
brush, and screened by this Ray and Arthur and Mil- 
dred reached the hilltop, whence they could look down 
on the valley beyond. 

“Oh-h-h-h!” and Mildred drew in a long breath 
and stood transfixed with pleased astonishment, while 
her dilated eyes stared down on the plain below. 

“ Jee-my'-mee ! Jee-my'-meel ” and Ray’s eyes al- 
most dropped out of his head. “ Jee-my'-mee, I should 
think there were a few left! ” and he gripped his rifle 
tightly. “I am sure I could kill that old bull from 
here.” 

“ But you’d stampede the whole herd,” warned Ar- 
thur. “ My, I did not suppose there were as many buf- 
faloes as that in the whole universe I ” and his aston- 
ished eyes swept over the wide plain below. “ Won’t 
this be great news for Jud Jimpson? ” 

“Indeed it will!” Mildred exclaimed. “And I’m 
going to be the first one to tell him,” and she darted 
away from the clump of sage-brush, down the hill to 
her pony, mounted, and sped away as fast as the swift 
legs of Beauty could carry her toward the distant hill, 
over the brow of which the heads of the lead-yoke of 
Jud Jimpson’s oxen were just coming in sight. 

“ Come on. Art. Let’s see if we can’t get to the 
waggons before she does,” and Ray started toward 
[ 226 ] 


Buffalo! Buffalo! 

Getthere with Arthur by his side, and they were not 
a rod behind Mildred as she sped down the hill. 

“ Buffalo ! Buffalo ! The plain is black with buffa- 
loes ! ” shouted the excited girl as she rushed by The 
Mourhers, who were staring In astonishment at the 
racing children. 

“ Buffalo ! Buffalo I ” echoed Ray and Arthur, striv- 
ing with whip and spur to get ahead of Mildred and 
be the first to deliver the glorious news. “ Millions of 
them ! ” 

The distance from the hill where the race started to 
the hill on whose brow the Judson party had now 
halted to await the coming of the children, fearful of 
what might have happened to cause their headlong 
flight, was a little over a mile of smooth level prairie, 
and consequently a very fitting course to try the speed 
and endurance of the three ponies. 

At first Ray’s and Arthur’s horses both gained on 
Mildred’s Beauty, and when they passed The Mourn- 
ers the three ponies were running almost abreast, with 
Getthere slightly in the lead. Black Duke a neck be- 
hind him, and Beauty a couple of necks behind Black 
Duke. A little farther on and Ray had increased his 
lead by a couple of horse’s lengths, and now feeling 
quite sure of winning, he partly turned In his saddle 
and called back to Mildred: “I told you Getthere 
could beat Beauty In a long race, and just see how easy 
he Is doing It.” 

This was an unfortunate boast for Ray, for tender- 
hearted Mildred up to this time had not used her whip 
on Beauty, but now, stung by his boast, she called out 
sharply and struck her horse with the whip. Beauty 
gave her head a knowing toss, as much as to say: 

[227] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

‘‘Well, so you want me to show you what I can do, do 
you?” and stretching forth her neck she leaped for- 
ward at a rate of speed that soon brought her abreast 
with Black Duke, then ahead, then even with Getthere, 
then, with another burst of speed, she swept by Get- 
there, and up the hill to the waggons a good two rods 
in the lead. 

“ Buffalo ! Buffalo ! ” yelled Mildred, as she dashed 
up to Jud Jimpson, her hair flying, her cheeks like twin 
roses. “ Buffalo ! Thousands, millions, billions of them I 
There! ” and she turned to Ray, who had just pulled 
up Getthere by her side, “ didn’t I say I would be the 
first to tell Jud? And didn’t I tell you that Beauty 
could beat Getthere any day and any distance? ” 

Now all was excitement. Everybody crowded around 
the three children to listen to their wonderful tale of 
the vast multitude of buffaloes that blackened the plain 
beyond the hill. Jud Jimpson seemed to renew his 
youth as he listened. His lank form straightened, his 
eyes dilated, his sallow cheeks flushed, and when he 
spoke his words came sharp and decisive. 

“ We’ll camp right down there by th’ side of Th’ 
Mourners,” he said, “ an’ then we’ll get ready for th’ 
hunt of our lives,” and his eyes sparkled. “Now every- 
body move lively, for th’ Lord only knows when some 
lunatic will come ’long an’ stampede th’ hull herd,” 
and with voice and whip-lash, he urged the oxen down 
the hill, followed with equal haste by the other two 
waggons. 

Never were the oxen unyoked and hobbled and the 
, camp pitched more quickly. Then Jud Jimpson and 
Mr. Judson galloped off to the brow of the hill to 
have a look at the buffalo and the lay of the land and 
[228] 


Buffalo! Buffalo! 

to plan the attack, while the others made ready their 
weapons and their horses. In a short time Mr. Judson 
and Jud Jimpson came galloping back, their faces 
flushed and their eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“ Makes me think of old times,” Jud said, as he 
flung himself off his horse. “ But we must waste no 
time. Everybody that’s goin’ on th’ hunt get ready tew 
once. You don’t need them rifles,” and he turned to 
Ray and Arthur. “ Pistols is th’ thing tew hunt buffa- 
loes a-horseback. Rifles are tew unhandy. Now, remem- 
ber, an’ ride up close on th’ left side of th’ buffalo an’ 
shoot jest behind th’ fore shoulder, an’ then look out 
that th’ old feller don’t turn an’ charger A wounded 
buffalo, especially a bull, is a mighty tough customer, 
an’ wouldn’t think nothin’ of tossin’ a horse an’ a kid 
like you skyhigh on his sharp horns. Jest keep control 
of yourselves an’ your horses, an’ shoot young cows. 
They’re better eatin’ an’ less dangerous. Now get your- 
selves ready jest as soon as you can,” and he hurried 
away to his waggon to get a fresh supply of ammuni- 
tion and an extra pair of pistols. 

Ray and Arthur had heard much of the two methods 
employed in hunting buffalo, and, theoretically, under- 
stood very well what was meant by the terms “ run- 
ning ” and ‘‘ approaching,” as the two methods were 
called, and both knew that in the present case they were 
to “ run ” the buffalo; that is, they were to ride as close 
as possible to the herd without frightening it, and then 
the moment the buffaloes took fright, rush down upon 
them at full speed, each hunter selecting his victim, 
and, riding up close to his left side, shooting him when 
only a few feet away. They knew that a buffalo, al- 
though a speedy animal for one of so great bulk, is no 
[ 229] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

match for a horse, even when mounted, and is easily 
overtaken by a horseman. This method of killing buf- 
falo is much more exciting and dangerous than “ ap- 
proaching,” when the hunter crawls on the ground to 
within shooting distance of the game, or, concealing 
himself near a buffalo trail running to water, lies in 
wait and kills them from ambush, and Ray and Arthur 
were glad it was the way they were to do their killing, 
because, boy-like, they fancied the more excitement and 
danger the better. 

For the next few minutes everybody was busy, care- 
fully loading and priming pistols, tightening saddle- 
girths, and seeing that every strap and buckle was 
safe and sound; then Jud Jimpson gave the command 
to mount, and the little cavalcade started on a trot for 
the hill behind which the buffaloes were quietly feeding. 

There were six men in the party, the three Mourners 
joining the hunt, and the two boys, while Mildred and 
Scoot had permission to ride to the top of the hill, and 
from there' watch the progress of the sport. Scoot was 
mounted on the poorest of the four horses bought at 
Fort Kearney, a tall, raw-boned sorrel that had been 
given the suggestive name of Turpentine, and was 
very proud of his mount and of his ability to stay 
mounted even when the horse galloped. 

It would be impossible to tell just how Ray and Ar- 
thur felt. This was their first buffalo hunt; in fact they 
had never before seen a buffalo except at a great dis- 
tance, and now they were to rush down into the midst 
of an immense herd of the huge animals and kill as 
many as possible! But, I fancy, every one of my boy 
readers can picture out to himself just how he would 
have felt under like circumstances, and that will tell 
[230] 


Buffalo! Buffalo! 

him very nearly how Ray and Arthur felt as they rode 
toward the herd of buffalo on that clear July morning 
of the year 1849. 

At last the crown of the hill was reached, and the 
prairie beyond lay beneath them. The sight was one 
calculated to stir the blood of any hunter. The plain 
half a mile below was almost black with buffaloes. A 
few old bulls stood in the outskirts of the herd, evi- 
dently doing guard duty. The rest of the immense 
herd were scattered about over the prairie as far as 
the sight could reach, and so thickly that there were 
spots acres in extent where the eye could not see the 
ground because of the buffalo that hid it. Many were 
quietly feeding on the grass, others were lying down, 
here and there bulls were fighting, and still others 
were rolling in the buffalo wallows or standing in pools 
of water, contentedly switching their short tails. 

For a few minutes the hunters paused on the brow 
of the hill to observe this wonderful sight, and then 
began slowly riding down the slope toward the herd, 
every man and boy with eyes intent on the huge ani- 
mals, ready the moment they became alarmed to strike 
their spurs into the sides of their horses and charge 
after them. Mildred and Scoot remained on the sum- 
mit of the hill to watch the exciting contest from afar. 

The old bulls in the outskirts of the herd were the 
first to notice their approach, but they did not seem 
to understand at once that the horses and men meant 
danger. A buffalo judges of an enemy more by scent 
than by sight, and a stiff wind, blowing directly from 
the herd toward the advancing hunters, prevented their 
scent from reaching the animals. They lifted their 
heads and looked at the horsemen for a few minutes 

[ 231 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

with sluggish curiosity, then they trotted a few steps 
in their direction, lowering their heads threateningly, 
stopped, as if half suspicioning danger, suddenly 
whirled about, and with short tails held stiffly up in 
the air, bounded off, giving the alarm to the rest of 
the herd, and suddenly transforming the plain into a 
black, seething, rushing mass of frightened buffaloes. 

At this moment Jud Jimpson gave the order to 
charge, and the hunters, digging their spurs sharply 
into their horses’ flanks, rushed after the running ani- 
mals, as swiftly as whip and spur could make their 
horses go, each selecting his victim as he approached. 

Imagine the excitement of Ray and Arthur during 
this mad ride. Every moment the buffaloes appeared to 
be growing larger, their aspect more appalling, until, 
to the two boys, the great shaggy monsters, with their 
enormous heads and shoulders bounding up and down 
as they leaped over the rough ground, presented a truly 
fearful sight. But not for an instant did they think 
of withdrawing from the hunt; rather their enthu- 
siasm, their desire to kill one of the great brutes, 
increased with each leap of their horses. There was 
no thought of danger, only a desperate determination 
to get alongside of one of the huge beasts and shoot 
him, kill him. The lust of the hunt ran hotly through 
their young blood, driving out every sluggish, cowardly 
eddy and pool, and making them forgetful of all peril 
to self. 

In a few minutes the air became filled with a fine 
dust, stirred into life by the innumerable hoofs, whose 
thundering gallop made the earth tremble. Through 
this dust cloud Ray saw dimly the animal he was pur- 
suing — a huge bull, in spite of Jud’s warning. Slowly 
[ 232 ] 



Leveled it at the Monster whose Panting Side Almost 
Touched the Muzzle. 



Buffalo! Buffalo! 

Getthere, who had hunted buffalo before and knew 
the business much better than did his master, brought 
him nearer and nearer to the buffalo until he was al- 
most abreast of the huge animal and so close that he 
might have reached out and laid his hand on the heav- 
ing rump. He knew that the moment to shoot — to 
shoot at his first buffalo — had come, and gripping his 
reins tightly in his left hand, he cocked his pistol, lev- 
elled it at the monster whose panting side almost touched 
the muzzle of the weapon, and pulled the trigger. 

The shot brought about an abrupt change in the be- 
haviour of the buffalo. He whirled half about and, 
maddened by the hurt, charged with bloodshot eyes 
and lowered head straight at Ray and Getthere. 

The mad buffalo bull made a fearful sight, and no 
wonder Ray’s horse and Ray himself wanted to get 
away from him as swiftly as possible. Foam and blood 
fell from his mouth and flecked with white and red 
the great shaggy mane. To the eyes of the frightened 
boy he looked as large as an elephant. There was no 
need for Ray to turn Getthere about. That intelligent 
animal wheeled on the instant he saw the buffalo’s 
horns pointed in his direction, with a suddenness that 
almost sent Ray flying off in the opposite direction, and 
bounded away over the prairie at a speed that prom- 
ised soon to leave the old lumbering buffalo bull far in 
the distance. But suddenly the horse’s leg broke through 
the ground into a prairie-dog’s hole, and down went the 
horse, sending Ray flying through the air over his 
head. The soft grass broke the boy’s fall and saved 
him from serious injury. The horse, unhurt by his 
rough tumble, jumped to his feet and sprang away at 
full speed. For a rod or two the wounded bull chased 

[ 233 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

madly after the fleeing horse, then he stopped and be- 
gan bellowing and tearing up the ground with his hoofs 
and shaking his huge head and glaring around with his 
bloodshot eyes, as if searching for the boy that had 
been hurled from the horse’s back. 

It was at this moment that Ray, who had been 
slightly stunned by his fall, jumped to his feet. In- 
stantly the bloodshot eyes caught sight of him, and the 
next moment the horrified boy saw a mountain of raging 
flesh and bone and muscle, tipped with two sharp, short 
horns, plunging toward him, and knew that he was 
facing death. 

There was but one thing for Ray to do — run, and 
he must do that with all possible quickness and speed; 
and run he did as he had never run before, and as he 
ran he cast hasty glances behind him. Each glance 
showed him the buffalo nearer, and his heart sank. If 
help did not come quickly all would be up with him. 
Now he could hear the deep, panting breathings of the 
huge beast not ten feet behind him, and every moment 
he expected to feel the thump of the great head striking 
his body, and the thrust of the sharp horns tearing his 
flesh. He turned his head for a last despairing look, 
and, as he did so, his foot caught in a bunch of grass 
and he was thrown violently to one side and to the 
ground, while the buffalo rushed harmlessly by, so close 
that one of his horns tore the boy’s coat as he fell. 

Ray sprang quickly to his feet and glanced swiftly 
around. Not one of the hunters was near, and the bare 
prairie offered not the slightest shelter. There seemed 
no possibility of escape, no hope of rescue from the 
wounded and furious buffalo that, after running blindly 
for a dozen rods, had already turned and was now 

[234] 


Buffalo! Buffalo! 

glaring furiously around, looking for the enemy that 
had so suddenly vanished from before his eyes. Get- 
there had stopped, and now stood some ten rods distant, 
with arched neck and ears pricked forward, his intelli- 
gent eyes watching the buffalo and his young master. 

At sight of his horse Ray’s heart gave a glad bound. 
If he could only get to him, and on his back, he would 
be safe 1 But the buffalo was not a dozen rods away, and 
it was a good ten rods to the horse ! Then Ray remem- 
bered how he had trained Getthere to come at his call, 
how he had practised calling him, and then, running 
to meet him, had mounted him without stopping. If — 
He thrust his two fingers into his mouth, gave the call 
whistle, and started on the run for the horse. 

The buffalo at this moment again caught sight of 
the running boy, and, with a low, rumbling bellow, low- 
ered his head and charged after him. 

Getthere heard the whistle, saw his young master 
running toward him, saw the buffalo bull charging be- 
hind him, and just as if he understood the fearful peril 
and the great need of haste, leaped forward to meet 
his master at full speed. 

There was not two seconds to spare, for, as Ray 
sprang into the saddle and the brave little pony leaped 
out of the way of the furious buffalo, the sharp horns 
combed the horse’s long tail. But fortunately in this 
case a miss, however close, was as good as a mile, and 
Ray was safe on the back of the gallant steed. 

For a minute Ray clung, crying his joy and telling 
the pony what a brave little horse he was, to Getthere’s 
neck, then he straightened up in his saddle and looked 
for the wounded buffalo. The great brute must not 
escape him now, and Ray’s lips came together tightly, 

[235 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and reaching down to the holster fastened to his sad- 
dle-bow, he drew out the remaining pistol and again 
started after the wounded bull. 

The buffalo was now galloping off across the plains, 
but it did not take Getthere long to again place Ray- 
close to his side, and this time the pistol was more care- 
fully aimed and fired. As the second ball entered the 
huge body, the buffalo made a convulsive, staggering 
plunge forward, and then his forelegs doubled up un- 
derneath him and he fell to the ground, ploughing up 
the prairie sod with his horns; and Ray had killed his 
first buffalo. 


f . 


[236] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 


THE SINFUL FOUR AGAIN 

I N the meantime Arthur was urging his horse at full 
speed after the buffalo he had selected — a young 
bull that proved to be very speedy, and almost a 
match for Black Duke. Arthur was greatly excited, and 
rode so fast and kept his eyes so constantly on the buf- 
falo ahead of him that he took no notice of the topog- 
raphy of the country over which he was riding, nor 
of the distance or direction he was going. Suddenly the 
buffalo disappeared from before his eyes as if the 
ground had swallowed him up, and before he had time 
to check his horse or to recover from his astonishment 
he found himself plunging down the steep bank of a 
small creek, and in a moment more horse and rider 
were over head and ears in mud and water. 

The bull scrambled up the opposite bank and rushed 
on over the prairie, and Arthur, covered with mud 
from head to heel and very much disgusted, let him go. 
He had had enough of buffalo running for that day, 
and as soon as he had himself and horse out of the mud 
and partly cleaned, he mounted and started to return 
to the camp. 

But where was the camp ? 

Arthur sat on his horse and stared all around him. 
In whatever direction he looked his eyes met a bare, 

[ 237 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

level plain, enclosed on all sides by low-lying hills. 
Over one of those hills he had ridden in his mad chase 
after the buffalo bull; behind one of those hills was 
the camp and safety — but which? Arthur could not 
tell. They all looked alike to him. He sat still on his 
horse and listened, hoping to hear some sound — the 
report of a pistol or rifle, the shout of a man — that 
would tell him in what direction his friends were, but 
he had ridden far and not a sound of the hunt nor of 
the thundering gallop of the stampeding buffaloes, nor 
a noise of human making of any kind, reached his ears. 

For a few minutes Arthur sat on his horse, trying to 
think of some method of determining which way to 
go, but he could see nothing, think of nothing that 
would be of help to him. All the surrounding hills 
looked alike strange, and he had not the slightest idea 
of the direction he had come. At last he determined 
to give Black Duke the reins, and trust to the wonder- 
ful instinct of his horse to bring him safe to his friends. 
He had read and heard of the marvellous ability of 
horses to find their way where all human skill was at 
fault, and here was certainly a fine opportunity of 
putting the matter to the test. 

“ It’s up to you. Black Duke, I guess,” he said, lean- 
ing forward and stroking his horse’s neck, “ whether 
or not we find our friends, for I am completely 
stumped, and so I’ll just let you go where you please. 
Get up ! ” and without touching the reins he struck his 
spurs lightly into Black Duke’s flanks. 

Black Duke turned his head and looked inquiringly 
at his master, then he started off on a trot toward the 
hills, keeping a straight course, as if he knew exactly 
where he was going. 


[238] 


The Sinful Four Again 

At the end of half an hour Arthur reached the 
foot of the hill toward which he had been riding, 
and with an anxiously beating heart hurried to its 
top. 

Would he find the camp or some trace of his friends 
on the other side? 

Ah, yes ! There was the top of a covered waggon ! 
And his heart gave a glad bound, and then almost 
stopped, for he saw in a little valley, on the shore of 
a small stream not forty rods from him, a light spring 
waggon and a dilapidated old prairie-schooner, and 
near the waggons a span of mules, a horse, and a couple 
of yokes of scrawny oxen, closely hobbled, feeding on 
the grass. Around a camp-fire built between the two 
waggons, sat four men, evidently feasting on buffalo 
steaks. At the first glance Arthur recognised three of 
these men — Slim George, Tom Pike, and Bud Wilkes, 
the man who had forced him to dance to the tune of 
his whip. The fourth man, a short, thick-set fellow, he 
took to be Tom Pike’s partner, Mike, of whom he had 
heard from Mr. Judson. 

For a minute Arthur was too surprised and con- 
founded at this unexpected sight to do anything but sit 
and stare at the men from the back of Black Duke — 
the only men in all the world that he would not have 
been glad to see at this moment. 

Slim George was sitting so that he caught sight of 
the boy the instant he appeared on the hilltop. 

“ Look, look there ! ” he exclaimed, jumping to his 
feet. “ There’s one of them Judson kids as sure as I 
am a sinner! And alone! Pll bet the boy is lost. He 
must be miles from camp. Let’s interview him,” and 
placing his two hands to his mouth, he shouted : 

[ 239 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Hello! Hello there, boy! Come and have some buf- 
falo-steak.” 

But Arthur, apparently, had no mind to be Inter- 
viewed by that crowd, for at the call of Slim George 
he whirled his horse around and galloped down the 
opposite side of the hill. 

“ Well, he don’t act as if he hankered after our 
company none much,” laughed Bud Wilkes. “ I reckon 
he remembered that bullet I sent through the brim of 
his hat the other day. But let’s see what has become of 
him. I’m none anxious for him to bring the whole gang 
down on us unawares,” and jumping quickly to his 
feet he caught up his rifle and started on the run 
for the hill behind which Arthur had vanished. 

“ The boy was alone,” he said when he returned 
some ten minutes later. “ Leastwise there was not an- 
other human in sight on the whole plain, and the kid 
was going as if he expected another bullet might be 
chasing after him any minute. Now,” and he turned to 
Slim George, “ while we’re on the subject, we might 
just as well consider that plan of yours for squaring 
accounts and getting that twenty-five thousand dollars. 
The sooner it’s done the better ’twill suit me,” and his 
eyes flashed vindictively. 

“ Well, boys,” Slim George answered, “ the fellow 
that waits until his porridge cools won’t get his tongue 
burnt, and I reckon this had better be a game of cool- 
ing the porridge before tackling It. It’s just this way, 
as I look at It. That Judson crowd Is bound for Cali- 
fornia, and so are we. They can’t spend any of that 
money until they get to California, because there Is 
no place to spend It; and, for the same reason, the 
money won’t do us any good until we get to California. 
[ 240] 


The Sinful Four Again 

Now, my idea is to let them keep the money for us 
until they get pretty near through or at least until they 
get beyond Salt Lake City, and then we can swoop 
down upon them and get the money and our revenge 
and be safe in the mines before any one can get on 
our track. I fancy it will be a mighty hard job to run 
a fellow down, once he is in the mines, where there 
are some hundreds of thousands of other men; but 
’twould be a mighty easy job to run a man down along 
this here trail, because he’s got to stick to the trail in 
this God-forsaken country or starve or lose his scalp 
or get lost himself, and no amount of gold is worth 
doing that for. ’Twon’t be a hard trick to keep track 
of them until the right time comes to make the haul, 
seeing that we’re all travelling in the same direction 
and at about the same rate of speed, and we can keep 
our eyes on them all the time, and if anything turns up 
to make it necessary to make the raid before that time, 
we’ll be on hand and ready for business. Now, that’s 
the way I look at this business, boys, and it seems to 
me that it’s the right way if we want to do the thing 
up in good shape and get off with whole skins.” 

“ That’s what might be called waiting for vengeance 
with a vengeance,” Tom Pike growled. “ But there’s 
wisdom in it, and I’m ready to say amen to it, pro- 
vided I can have an extra dig at that long-legged cuss 
for the long wait.” 

“ Me, too,” echoed Mike. “ An extra dig for me, 
too.” 

“ Blamed if I can see the sense of waiting,” grumbled 
Bud Wilkes. “ I’m for getting that cash as soon as we 
can, and there’s about ten million nail-pricks all over 
my hide that are calling loud for immediate vengeance. 

[ 241 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

I don’t feel none much like waiting a month or two 
to square accounts with that bull-necked giant and them 
two smart kids. ’Twould suit me better if the thing 
was done to-night, and done good and brown.” 

“ Even if you had to be hanged for it to-morrow? ” 
queried Slim George scornfully. “ Supposing we should 
play the trick to-night. To-morrow it would be known 
all up and down the trail — curious how fast news 
travels along this trail — and we wouldn’t be safe any- 
where. If we left the trail there’s the Indians or star- 
vation, and if we stuck to the trail we’d be caught sure 
before we reached California. I am as anxious as any- 
body for a chance to get considerably more than even 
with that Judson crowd, but I don’t want to get my 
neck stretched for doing it. I say, wait until we get 
’most through to California. Then we’ll stand a good 
show of escaping with whole skins, and our vengeance 
will taste all the sweeter for the long wait.” 

“ Maybe you’re right,” admitted Bud Wilkes un- 
willingly. “ But if I get a good chance to put a hole 
through Tom Rawlins I’m going to do it,” and his 
snake-like eyes sparkled. “ No mortal can do Bud 
Wilkes the way he did and live long to boast of it.” 

“ Tom Rawlins is big enough to take care of him- 
self,” and Slim George looked at the boaster a little 
disdainfully, “ and from all I hear he is plenty able 
to do so, either with his fists or guns, so you’d better 
go a little careful or it will be you that will have a 
hole through his anatomy. Now, I fancy it would be 
a wise move to change our camp, for, like as not, that 
kid will tell about seeing us, and then Judson and Raw- 
lins would be more than likely to want to look us up 
to ask you to explain about that hole you put through 
[242] 


The Sinful Four Again 

the kid’s hat. They are not the kind of men to let such 
an act go by unchallenged. You ought to put a curb- 
bit on that temper of yours, Bud.” 

Accordingly, but not without considerable grum- 
bling from Bud Wilkes and Mike, the mules and oxen 
were hitched to the waggons and the quartet of rascals 
set out to find another camping-place, where they would 
feel more secure from the wrath of Mr. Judson and 
Tom Rawlins and yet be able to keep watchful eyes 
upon them; and there we will leave them for the 
present. 

Arthur, when he whirled his horse around and 
started down the hill, had but one thought — that of 
escaping from the dangerous presence of the four men 
as quickly as possible. He gave no attention whatever 
to the route he was taking, except to see that it led 
away from the hill behind which his enemies were en- 
camped. For the moment he even forgot that he was 
lost, in his dread of these four men and in his anxiety 
to get out of their reach; but when he had ridden a 
mile or more and there was no sign of pursuit, his 
thoughts again turned to his unfortunate situation, and 
he again vainly tried to solve the problem of the where- 
abouts of the camp. 

“ Well, Black Duke, we’ll give you another trial,” 
he said at last. “ You could not be expected to know 
that I did not wish to meet that crowd,” and dropping 
the reins over the pommel of his saddle he allowed 
Black Duke to take his own course. 

The pony, turning a little to the right, galloped 
swiftly toward the hills in that direction, and in half 
an hour more Arthur had again reached the hills. This 
time he rode to the top more cautio’^sly, not knowing 

[ 243 ] 


\ 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

what the other side of the hill might reveal to him, 
and saw, to his inexpressible joy, a man on horseback 
chasing a buffalo that was headed directly toward him. 
The buffalo was a quarter of a mile or more away, 
plunging along at a desperate rate of speed, and the 
man was another quarter of a mile behind the buffalo. 

“ That looks like Jud Jimpson ! ” Arthur exclaimed 
excitedly, pulling up his horse to watch the race. “If 
it wasn’t for butting in I’d have a try at that buffalo,” 
and he drew one of his still loaded pistols from the 
holster. “ I declare, that buffalo looks queer ! Great 
Scott, what’s that on his back? Looks like a black 
monkey bobbing up and down! And hear it yell! — 
Why — ^why — why it’s Scoot! It’s Scoot, as sure as I 
am alive ! How on earth did he get on the back of that 
wild buffalo bull? To the rescue! ” and with a shout 
Arthur drove his spurs into Black Duke and dashed 
toward the oncoming buffalo. 

“ Sabe dis niggah ! Sabe dis niggah ! ” came from 
the back of the bull in Scoot’s shrill treble the moment 
he caught sight of Arthur. “ I’s done runned away 
wid! Sabe dis niggah! Fo’ de lob ob de good Gawd, 
sabe dis niggah ! ” 

Scoot was clinging desperately to the long hair of 
the buffalo’s mane, while his little black body bounced 
up and down with every jump of the terror-stricken 
bull. His hat was gone, and the kinks of hair on the 
top of his head stood up almost straight, while the 
head itself was lifted above the shaggy mane very much 
after the manner a mud-turtle lifts its head out of its 
shell. His mouth was wide open, and the shrill jumble 
of screams and prayers and wild ejaculations of fright 
that issued from it could be heard for half a mile. 

[ 244] 


The Sinful Four Again 

Evidently Scoot was not enjoying his novel ride, and 
it is no wonder that the buffalo bull could not compre- 
hend what that yelling, bouncing, wiggling, squirming, 
clinging black thi]^ was he had on his back, and that 
he became frantic with terror and rushed straight ahead 
over the prairie regardless of everything except the 
shrieking black imp that clung so tightly to his back. 

Suddenly, just as Arthur had almost reached the side 
of the buffalo, one of the bull’s forelegs went through 
a hole in the ground. Down went the huge animal, and 
Scoot was shot over his head like a black stone from a 
catapult, landing like a cat on his feet a rod ahead 
of the buffalo, and with a backward glance over his 
shoulder at the monster so close behind him, fled as fast 
as his short black legs could carry him. 

The buffalo struggled quickly to his feet, caught 
sight of the fleeing negro boy, and with a bellow of 
rage charged after him. But by this time Black Duke 
had brought Arthur to the left side of the charging 
bull, and so close that when he stretched out his arm 
to aim his pistol the muzzle of the weapon almost 
touched the great heaving side. 

Arthur knew that probably the life of Scoot de- 
pended on the accuracy of that one shot, and the 
thought steadied his arm and compelled him to wait 
until the sights told him that his aim was true before 
he pulled the trigger. 

“ Fire ! Fire ! ” yelled Jud Jimpson, who was now 
not a dozen yards away. “ Fire, or th’ bull will kill th’ 
nig!" 

At that moment Arthur’s finger pressed the trigger, 
and the heavy ball tore its way into the panting side 
straight through the throbbing heart, and the bull, with 
[ 245 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

a convulsive bound, plunged headlong to the ground, 
his horns ploughing up the sod not a yard behind 
Scoot’s flying feet. 

“ That was a mighty close call for Scoot,” Jud Jimp- 
son said, riding up to Arthur, who sat on his horse 
looking down on the dead buffalo, his first buffalo; 
and every boy who reads this can imagine for himself 
how proud he felt that it was his own pistol, held by 
his own hand, that had killed the monster, and at the 
very first shot. “ Hey, there! ” and Jud turned to the 
still running negro. “ Stop them black legs of yourn. 
Th’ bull is dead.” 

Scoot turned his head, saw that the buffalo was no 
longer after him, stopped, and came timidly back to 
where Arthur and Jud sat on their horses, his little 
body wet with the sweat of his fear and exertions and 
all of a-tremble, and his black face looking as if some- 
body had spread a very thin coating of flour over it. 

“ Golly, I done nebber want to ride no buf’lo no 
mo’ ! ” he exclaimed, attempting to smile. “ I’s gwine 
back to old Kentuck, whar dar am no cows like dat,” 
and he rolled his eyes toward the dead buffalo. 

“ But how did you get on the back of that old bull? ” 
Arthur asked. “ And what has become of your horse? ” 

“ Dat oF scaFwag! ” and Scoot straightened up an- 
grily. “ Dat oF yeller rascallion! Jes’ wait till dis nig- 
gah done lay his hands ag’in on dat oF fool boss I I’s 
gwine to ” 

“ But,” interrupted Arthur anxiously, “ do tell us 
how you got on the back of that old bull.” 

“ Ts cornin’ to dat, I’s cornin’ to dat,” Scoot an- 
swered indignantly. “ But jes’ wait an’ I’ll wallup de 
skin off dat oF rascallion ob a boss, dat done runned 
[246] 


The Sinful Four Again 

away wid me, an’ dumped me on de back of dat oF 
bull, like I’s a no-’count, low-down niggah. Golly, but 
I done thought de debbel got dis niggah sho’ dat time, 
ho’n, hoofs, an’ all.” 

Later, after he had reached the camp under Jud 
Jimpson’s guidance, Arthur learned the true story of 
Scoot’s novel and thrilling ride. It seemed that Tur- 
pentine, the old rawboned horse that Scoot had so 
proudly mounted, had been a buffalo horse in his 
younger and speedier days, and when he saw the hunt- 
ers charging after the buffaloes, he appeared to feel that 
it was his duty to charge, too, and accordingly, taking 
the bit between his teeth, he had charged, utterly re- 
gardless of the yelling protests and vain jerks of Scoot. 
The race was long, but at last he had brought Scoot 
up to the side of a huge bull, and then as the enraged 
animal turned suddenly to vent his fury on his ene- 
mies, the cunning old horse had whirled about so 
quickly that Scoot was thrown off, and landed right 
side up on the back of the bull, where he clung, like a 
little black monkey, with both hands to the long hair of 
the mane, yelling with terror. Fortunately, the buffalo 
in his mad flight was seen by Jud Jimpson, who at once 
gave chase, with the results already narrated. 

It had been a great hunt. Fifteen buffaloes had been 
killed, the greater number of them being young cows, 
and I am sure my young readers can imagine the feast 
that followed, when told that of all kinds of meat, 
buffalo-meat, when taken from the body of a fat young 
cow, is considered by those who have tasted it the most 
delicious eating, and especially when they remember that 
our friends had not had a taste of fresh meat of any 
kind for days. The “ hump,” the tongue, tenderloin, 

[ 247 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the bass and marrow bones are the buffalo tidbits, and 
when the animals are plenty no other parts are taken by 
the hunters, the rest being left on the ground ; and so nu- 
tritious and digestible are these parts of a buffalo that 
an old hunter would seldom eat anything else when he 
could get the buffalo-meat. Give him a cup of strong 
coffee and all the buffalo “ hump ” he could devour 
and he was perfectly contented and never felt the want 
either of bread or vegetables. 

The next morning The Mourners continued on their 
way, but the Judson party remained in camp here an- 
other day, preparing buffalo-meat for future use. This 
was done by cutting it into thin strips and drying it over 
a fire on a willow frame. When dry it was packed in 
sacks and placed in the waggons, to be eaten when they 
again ran out of fresh meat. 

“ Seems as if that Sinful Quartet were hanging 
pretty close to us,” Mr. Judson said uneasily when Ar- 
thur told of the camp he had surprised in the little 
valley, “ and yet we never get a sight of them except 
by chance. Well, I reckon they have a right to travel 
’long this trail to California if they want to,” and he 
said no more upon the subject, but Arthur could see 
that the apparent continual dodging of their footsteps 
by these four men troubled him more than a little. 


[248] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 


THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT FROM ACROSS THE CANYON 

R ay and Arthur and Mildred by this time had 
become well hardened to their life on the 
plains. Their faces were tanned a deep health- 
ful brown, their eyes shone clear and bright, and as 
they rode along on their horses by the side of the wag- 
gons or galloped ahead of the slow-moving oxen, they 
presented a delightful picture of vigorous, joyous youth. 
On the whole they were enjoying themselves greatly, 
but they had long since learned the truth of Jud Jimp- 
son’s oft-repeated words : “ This here trip tew Cali- 
forny won’t be no Sunday-school picnic excursion.” 
They had been obliged to endure many disagreeable 
things, to suffer many real hardships, and to do a great 
deal of hard, tiresome, monotonous work. 

There were the mosquitoes and the other insects that 
bit or stung or crawled! At night, especially after our 
friends reached the valley of the Platte, these little 
pests swarmed down upon the camp in clouds that lit- 
erally filled the air and ravenously attacked everything 
that had warm blood in it, driving everybody almost 
insane with the torment of their bites and making 
sleep or comfort of any kind next to impossible. 

Then there were the snakes, many of them poison- 
ous! They had to be constantly on the lookout for 

[249] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

them, especially at night, when they made their beds 
on the ground, and even with all their caution, Ray 
and Arthur had been horrified more than once to feel 
their cold forms gliding over their faces or hands In 
the darkness, or, on awakening In the morning, to find 
them coiled on their blankets. 

Then they soon found that riding In the hot sun day 
after day over treeless prairies and plains frequently as 
level and monotonous and barren as floors, was any- 
thing but pleasant, especially when the hot dry dust 
rose In suffocating clouds, or after one of the frequent 
thunder-showers had drenched them to the skins and 
transformed the loose soil of the plains Into soft mud 
on which, or rather In which, they must make their 
beds at night. 

Add to these and a hundred other lesser discomforts, 
the necessity of often riding all day in the hot sun 
without a drop of water to drink, and then, when at 
length a pool of water was reached, to discover on rais- 
ing the cup to the lips a troop of young tadpoles gaily 
sporting in its bottom; or the frequent need of getting 
down In the mud up to the waist to help dig or push 
or pull the waggon out of the mire of some river bot- 
tom or marshy spot In the trail ; or the wearisome labour 
of digging, with spade and shovel, a waggon road 
through the steep bank of some river that must be 
crossed; or the still more difficult task of lowering the 
waggons with ropes down steep banks too hard to be 
dug; or — But why prolong the tale of their woes? 
Sufficient has been said to show that, however much 
enjoyment the children were getting out of the jour- 
ney, they had their discomforts and trials and hard- 
ships to endure, as, indeed, we all have, no matter 
[ 250] 


Mysterious Shot from Across the Canyon 

where or how we are journeying through life, and the 
only wise thing to do is to face them cheerfully and 
bravely as, I am glad to say, Ray and Arthur and Mil- 
dred always faced those that came to them along the 
long trail to far-off California. 

For the next few days after the great buffalo hunt 
our friends saw many small herds of buffaloes, usually 
feeding at a distance from the trail, and antelopes were 
plentiful, but time was far too precious for them to 
waste any of it in unnecessary hunting, and they trudged 
steadily on without stopping except for the noon-hour 
meal and rest and the camp at night. Every morn- 
ing Jud Jimpson, sometimes accompanied by one of 
the boys, would make a short excursion from the trail 
to secure the fresh meat for the day, but this caused 
no delay, for, mounted on horses, it was easy for the 
hunters to overtake the slow-moving oxen after the 
buffaloes or antelopes had been slain and the meat pro- 
cured. In this way they travelled slowly up the Platte 
Valley, anxious to reach Fort Laramie as soon as pos- 
sible, where another stop of two or three days was to 
be made to rest the animals and to get everything in 
shape for the rough and hazardous trail across the 
mountains. 

The scenery, as they advanced up the valley of the 
Platte, constantly became more rugged and picturesque, 
sometimes assuming the most fantastic shapes and re- 
semblances to works of human architecture. The more 
prominent of these natural landmarks had been given 
names by the early voyageurs^ as the employees of the 
Hudson Bay and Northwest Companies who first tra- 
versed this region were called; and Ray and Arthur 
and Mildred had heard so frequently, ever since their 

[251 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

start, of Court House Rocks, Chimney Rock, Scott’s 
Bluffs, and Independence Rock, that they were very 
curious to see these wonderful formations. Consequently 
when, one afternoon, Jud Jimpson stopped his oxen on 
the brow of a small hill, and pointing with his ox-whip 
to the northwest, turned and yelled, “ There’s Chim- 
ney Rock,” the children lost no time in getting to his 
side, each eager to be the one to get the first sight of 
this celebrated landmark. 

“ Where? Where? ” Mildred shouted, as she pulled 
up Beauty by the side of the old hunter. “ Where is it? ” 
and her eyes eagerly searched the plains beyond, and 
“Where? Where? ” echoed Ray and Arthur, as they 
came to a halt by the side of Mildred. 

“ There, that’s th’ Chimney, that tall chimney-like 
rock,” and Jud’s finger pointed to where a tall shaft of 
rock loomed above the surrounding country far to the 
northwest, “ an’ them’s th’ Court House, that pile of 
rocks with th’ big dome-like rock a-top of ’em, that 
you can see jest a lettle this side of th’ Chimney. 
Looks somethin’ like th’ Court House in St. Louis, an’ 
that’s how it got its name.” 

“ Well, that surely does look enough like a chim- 
ney,” Ray exclaimed, his eyes on the distant spire of 
rock, “ to have a lot of black smoke belching out of its 
top right now I ” 

“ And that pile of rocks does certainly look like the 
Court House in St. Louis,” Arthur declared. “ Don’t 
you remember how we admired its great dome? And 
there it is, dome and all.” 

“ Let’s gallop on ahead and wait at the Court House 
for papa and the rest,” Mildred proposed, “ so that 
we can have more time to examine it. There’s a string 
[252] 


Mysterious Shot from Across the Canyon 

of waggons all along the trail ahead, so there won’t be 
any danger.” 

“ Well, I reckon you needn’t be In any rush ’bout 
startin’ on that gallop,” and Jud Jimpson chuckled, 
“ seein’ that them rocks are somethin’ like forty miles 
from here.” 

“ Oh, they can’t be that far ! ” and Mildred turned 
doubtingly to the hunter. “ They don’t look over five 
miles away, and I thought sure we would camp near 
them to-night.” 

“ I reckon if we get tew th’ Chimney by th’ day 
after tew-morrow night we’ll be doin’ pretty well,” and 
Jud chuckled again. “ You see this here atmosphere 
ain’t clouded none with th’ dirt an’ smoke of civilisa- 
tion, an’ a feller can see more miles here than he can rods 
back In your old, dirty Eastern air. Ever hear th’ story 
of th’ Englishman th’ first time he crossed th’ plains? 
You see,” he went on without pausing for the chil- 
dren’s reply to his query, “ this here Englishman, likes 
th’ most of ’em, had an uncommon good opinion of 
himself, an’ didn’t take none tew kindly tew takin’ 
advice, an’ went right on followin’ his own nose, which 
is a mighty bad trail tew follow on these here plains. 
Well, one day his guide came upon him standin’ on 
th’ bank of a leetle creek ’bout three feet wide, a-takin’ 
off his clothes. 

“ ‘ Coin’ tew take a bath? ’ asked th’ guide. 

“ ‘ No,’ answered th’ Engllsher, ‘ I’m goln’ tew swim 
’cross this bloomin’ river.’ 

“ ‘ Why,’ an’ th’ surprised guide stared blankly at 
th’ Englishman, ‘ you can jump ’cross that leetle creek 
an’ not half try.’ 

“ ‘ None of your bloomin’ guff,’ an’ th’ Englishman 

[ 253 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

continued talcin’ off his clothes. ‘ Yesterday I tried tew 
jump one of your blasted rivers that didn’t look more’n 
three feet ’cross, an’ landed in th’ bloomin’ mud up 
tew my bloody neck, b’ Jove ! ’ 

“ Now, I reckon you’d be ’bout as badly fooled as 
th’ Englisher if you tried tew reach them rocks tew- 
night. G’lang! Haw, there, Buster! ” and Jud’s long 
lash cracked over the heads of his oxen, and with creak- 
ings of yokes and groanings of wheels the heavy wag- 
gon started down the hill. 

Mildred and the boys laughed heartily over Jud’s 
story of the Englishman, but they still cast doubting 
glances toward the Chimney and the Court House, and 
it was not until they had travelled all of the next day 
without seemingly getting any nearer to these land- 
marks that they became convinced that he had not 
exaggerated the distance to them, and could fully ap- 
preciate his story of the Englishman’s indignation at 
the deceitfulness of our “ bloomin’ ” rivers. 

About noon on the following day they passed the 
Court House Rocks, but as this curious formation was 
some four or five miles from the trail, with intervening 
rivers to cross, they did not visit the Court House, and, 
continuing on their way, camped that night within a 
short distance of Chimney Rock, near a clear cool 
spring of delicious water that bubbled up from the 
ground at the base of the bluff. 

The abundant grass and the cool spring of clear 
water made this seem almost an ideal camping ground 
to our friends, who were heartily tired of drinking the 
dirty water of the rivers and pools along the route, 
and they determined to spend the following day, which 
was Sunday, in camp here. Indeed, they never travelled 

[254] 


Mysterious Shot from Across the Canyon 

on Sunday unless obliged to, for, aside from all religi- 
ous scruples, they found it wise to give their animals 
and themselves a rest one day out of seven, in order to 
keep in shape to continue the long journey to its distant 
end. 

The Chimney was something like a mile from their 
camp, and early Sunday afternoon Mildred and the 
two boys, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Judson and 
Tom Rawlins, started out for a closer inspection of 
this celebrated landmark. They found the Chimney a 
nearly circular and perpendicular shaft some fifty feet 
high, set on a conical elevation, like a monument upon 
its base, the whole rising to a height of one hundred 
and seventy-five or two hundred feet above the green 
carpet of the surrounding plain, and forming a land- 
mark that could be seen by the weary emigrants toiling 
along the trail from a distance of nearly fifty miles. 

“ Curious how that chimney-like pillar came to be 
left right on top of this rounded hill,” Tom Rawlins 
speculated, as they stood by the side of the huge shaft. 
“ Looks like a monument over some dead giant.” 

“ Well, I reckon it is a sort of a monument,” Mr. 
Judson observed, “ left here by Nature to show on 
what a grand scale she works, for them geology fel- 
lows tell us that rocks like this have been formed by 
the rains and the winds cutting away the softer ground 
all around them, which would mean that once all this 
surrounding country was about on a level with the top 
of this rock, and maybe a good deal higher, because it’s 
more than likely that the Chimney itself was once much 
higher than it is now.” 

Whew, but that sounds like a whopper ! ” Arthur 
exclaimed, glancing over the great plain that surrounded 

[ 255 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the Chimney, and mentally calculating the vast quanti- 
ties of dirt Nature had had to move in order to perform 
this prodigy. “ Wouldn’t Nature make a master hand 
at digging ditches and removing hills and mountains, 
if we could only get her to work when and where we 
wanted her to? ” 

“Great idea!” Mr. Judson laughed. “Better get 
it patented. But now we’d better mosey along if we 
want to take a look at them bluffs over yonder before 
going back to camp,” and he pointed to an odd-looking 
formation of rocks something like a mile from where 
they were standing. 

They found that the rocks had been worn by time 
and the weather into fantastic resemblances of abut- 
ments and domes and castellated towers and battle- 
ments, cut by deep ravines and gulches that made them 
all but impassable to human feet. 

“ What a great place this would be to play hide- 
and-seek,” Mildred laughed, looking down from where 
our party stood on a high shelf of projecting rocks into 
a perfect maze of intersecting canyons and gulches 
strewn with great rocks. 

“ A bully place,” assented Ray, “ only I fear the 
hider would have the time of his life finding himself — 
Hello I I wonder if that fellow over yonder across that 
canyon is having a game all by himself. I am sure I 
saw some one dodge in behind that great pile of rocks,” 
and he pointed across a deep canyon to a huge pile of 
rocks some forty rods distant; and, even as he stood 
with his arm outstretched, a white puff of smoke shot 
out from among the rocks and Big Tom Rawlins ut- 
tered a sharp cry of pain, clapped both hands to his 
forehead, and fell over backward. 

[ 256] 


Mysterious Shot from Across the Canyon 

“Quick! Get behind that rock!” Mr. Judson 
shouted to the two b()ys, catching Mildred and her 
mother under each arm and half carrying them to the 
shelter of a huge rock that stood some two rods away, 
and then instantly leaping to where Tom Rawlins lay 
motionless. 

But Ray and Arthur, forgetful of their own danger, 
were there before him, bending anxiously over the un- 
conscious form of their big friend. 

“ Is he dead? Oh, is he dead? ” and Ray raised an 
awed and horror-stricken face to Mr. Judson. 

“ Don’t know,” Mr. Judson answered shortly. “ But 
we’ll be dead if we don’t get behind that rock right 
lively. Catch hold of his feet, quick! ” and stooping, he 
gripped both arms under Tom Rawlins’s shoulders, 
Ray and Arthur each caught hold of a leg, and in two 
seconds more all were safe behind the rock that shel- 
tered Mildred and her mother. 

“ Leave Tom to the women,” Mr. Judson com- 
manded tersely, “ and take your rifles and try and get a 
shot at the vermin from that side of the rock, while I try 
what I can do here. Be mighty careful ’hout showing 
yourselves ! ” he warned, as he hurried to his side of 
the rock, his blue eyes glittering like steel points. 

Ray and Arthur gripped their rifles with hands that 
trembled just a little — remember this was their first 
battle and the horror of the white bloody face of Tom 
Rawlins was still before their eyes — and hastened to 
their appointed station, where a loose pile of broken 
rocks gave them protection, while the openings be- 
tween the rocks offered them loopholes through which 
they might thrust their rifles with little chance of being 
seen by the enemy. 


[ 257 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“Do you suppose it’s Indians?” Arthur queried, 
as he pushed his rifle barrel between two rocks and 
glanced cautiously across the canyon whence the shot 
had come. 

“ I don’t think the fellow I saw sneaking behind the 
rocks was an Indian — Look out! ” and Ray ducked 
his head quickly and fell flat on his belly just as an- 
other puff of white smoke spurted out from among the 
rocks across the canyon, and a rifle ball struck with a 
hissing thud against the rock not a foot above Ray’s 
head. 

Both Mr. Judson and Arthur fired at the puff of 
smoke, and were answered by a derisive triumphant 
yell, followed by the words, “ I got the one I want,” 
and a mocking laugh, which in a few minutes was re- 
peated from a high ridge of rocks some fbrty rods 
farther away, and the three watchers saw a man leap 
upon the ridge, pause for an instant to shake his rifle 
defiantly in their direction, and then vanish down the 
opposite side. 

All three fired, but the distance was so great and the 
time to take aim so brief that probably not a bullet 
touched the assassin. 

“ The cowardly murderer 1 ” and Mr. Judson turned 
a white, set face to the two boys. “ If he got Tom I’ll 
hunt him down if it takes until I’m white-haired. Now, 
just keep close watch to see if there are any more of 
the villains. I’m going to see how Tom is,” and he 
hurried to where Mrs. Judson and Mildred were bend- 
ing over Tom Rawlins. 

“Hurrah!” he shouted a moment later. “Tom is 
all right! The ball just cut a swath of hair and hide 
off the top of his head and stunned him. One of you 

[258] 


Mysterious Shot from Across the Canyon 

boys run down to the spring at the foot of the bluff 
and hurry back with a hatful of water.” 

Ray jumped to his feet and ran after the water, 
while Arthur remained on guard behind the rocks until 
he came back, when, feeling assured that there had 
been only the one man and that he had gone, he joined 
the group gathered around Tom Rawlins. 

“ Coming to have a look at the corpse? ” Tom Raw- 
lins greeted him with a laugh. “ Well, it’s not my fun- 
eral this time, but ’twill be somebody’s funeral sure 
if I ever come within shooting distance of that cow^ 
ardly assassin and know it,” and his voice hardened. 
“ Did any of you see who it was? Didn’t know I had 
an enemy on the whole trail to California, unless it’s 
them two skunks, Bud Wilkes and Slim George. 
Reckon they both hate me ’bout the same as they do 
poison.” 

“ No,” answered Mr. Judson slowly. “ I couldn’t 
swear that I recognised the man that fired that shot, 
but I guess you’re not far out of the way, Tom, when 
you mention Bud Wilkes. The man was about his build 
and the act is just what one might expect of that sneak- 
ing ornery cuss. How are you feeling? Strong enough 
to walk back to camp, or had I better send the boys 
after the horses? ” 

“ Oh, I’ll be as good a man as I ever was in about 
ten minutes,” Tom Rawlins answered heartily. “ The 
ball didn’t do any particular damage, just sort of 
stunned me. You see, a thick skull is a mighty good 
thing to have sometimes, boys,” and he turned to Ray 
and Arthur. “ I reckon, if you will look, you will find 
a flattened piece of lead lying on the ground near 
where I fell,” he added with a laugh. 

[259] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Tom Rawlins proved a true prophet, for at the end 
of ten minutes he was on his feet and ready to start 
back for the camp, which was safely reached and with- 
out further adventures befalling our friends, just as 
the sun sank into an ocean of red glory below the far 
western plains. 


[ 260 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 


ON THE TRAIL BEYOND FORT LARAMIE 

T he next day’s travel was a hard one on man 
and beast. The trail, some three or four miles 
from the Chimney Rock, gradually turned 
from the river in order to pass behind Scott’s Bluffs, a 
point where a spur from the main ridge comes down so 
close to the river that it leaves no room for the passage 
of waggons. Between these two places, the Chimney 
Rock and Scott’s Bluffs, a distance of over thirty miles, 
our friends found no water, and were obliged to go on 
until they reached the Bluffs, which was not accom- 
plished until after nine o’clock at night, when every- 
body — men, women and children, and horses and oxen 
— were completely worn out, for the day had been 
oppressively hot and the gnats and the mosquitoes 
had given neither human nor beast a moment’s peace. 
Here, to their great delight, they found a delicious 
spring, as if to reward them for the hardships of the 
day, and joyfully went into camp within a few rods of 
its cool waters. 

The start the next morning was delayed until nearly 
noon, in order to get a couple of oxen shod and the 
tires on the waggon wheels reset by an enterprising 
blacksmith that had set up a temporary shop in this 
lonely place, to gather in the gold from the passing 
[ 261 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

emigrants, who nearly always needed his service after 
their three hundred mile drive from Fort Kearney. 
The man lived in an Indian lodge, but had built a log 
shanty by the side of the trail. The blacksmith shop 
was in one end of this shanty, and in the other end he 
kept a grog-shop and a kind of a grocery. Evidently 
he had found a gold mine here without the trouble of 
going clear through to California after it, for he had 
all the work he could do and charged what he pleased, 
and when he did not care to work himself he got 
seventy-five cents an hour for the use of his tools and 
shop. Then his “ store ” was a paying institution. He 
bought nearly all his goods of the emigrants, and al- 
ways at a great sacrifice, and sold them again to other 
emigrants at an equally great profit. 

‘‘ Now, why should I be going clear across them 
mountains and over the desert beyond, suffering all 
kinds of hardships and like as not getting killed or 
starved, just to dig gold up out of the ground, when 
I can get the gold right here and without digging, and 
get it already coined?” he protested to Ray and Ar- 
thur, who had ventured to wonder how he had escaped 
the gold fever. “See that waggon?” and he pointed 
to a large double waggon in good condition that stood 
near his shop. “ I bought that t’other day of one of 
your disgusted gold-seekers who had lost all his crit- 
ters and was going back to God’s country, for seventy- 
five cents, and he was glad to get that ; and this morn- 
ing I sold it to another emigrant whose waggon got 
smashed falling down a steep river bank, for thirty- 
five dollars, and he was mighty glad to get it at that 
price. And that flour and bacon I bought along with 
the waggon of the same feller for one cent a pound, 
[ 262 ] 


On the Trail Beyond Fort Laramie 

and I’ve sold nearly all of it for twenty-five cents a 
pound. No, I reckon as long as my head is level I’ll 
stay right here and work this gold mine,” and he 
grinned appreciatively when Ray and Arthur both 
“ reckoned ” his head was as level as a waveless lake. 

As Ray and Arthur turned to go from the black- 
smith they saw Mildred hurrying toward them from 
the waggon with a book in her hand. 

“ Oh, boys ! ” she cried. “ Don’t you remember this 
is the place where that poor man Scott died, who was 
taken ill and deserted by his comrades after dragging 
himself sixty miles to this spot? That is why the bluffs 
are called Scott’s Bluffs. They are that poor man’s only 
monument. Washington Irving tells all about it in his 
‘ Bonneville’s Adventures.’ Come to the waggon and 
I will read you the story,” and accompanied by the 
two boys she returned to the waggon, where she read 
aloud Irving’s account of the melancholy circumstances 
that gave these picturesque bluffs their name. 

The journey from Scott’s Bluffs to Fort Laramie, a 
distance of some fifty miles, was made without mishap 
or adventures of sufficient interest to need recording 
here. 

Fort Laramie, formerly known as Fort John, had 
recently been purchased by the United States from the 
American Fur Company, and was garrisoned by two 
companies of infantry and one of mounted rifles. The 
little fort was built of sun-dried bricks, and had walls 
nearly fifteen feet high, which were surmounted by a 
slender palisade and overlooked by two clay bastions. 
In Ray’s and Arthur’s eyes this little army post, with 
its well-dressed officers and men, made quite an impos- 
ing appearance, and it was pleasing to know that the 
[263] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

strong arm of the United States was stretched out, even 
into these wild wastes of mountains and plains, to pro- 
tect them. 

Our friends found many emigrants encamped on the 
plains surrounding Fort Laramie, recruiting their ani- 
mals, repairing their waggons, and, as it were, taking 
a long breath before making the plunge into the wilder- 
ness across the Rocky Mountains to Fort Bridger, on 
Black’s Fork of Green River, four hundred miles 
away, and the first human habitation to be seen after 
leaving Fort Laramie. Here, as at Fort Kearney, they 
found a few who had become discouraged and were 
going back to the “ States,” and these were selling out 
everything they could spare for anything they could 
get. 

All along the trail there had come repeated rumours 
of serious trouble with the Indians beyond Fort Lara- 
mie. Small parties of emigrants were reported to have 
been attacked and massacred, and even large waggon 
trains were said to have been beset by hundreds of 
whooping savages, who had been driven off only after 
hours of hard fighting, while the horses and oxen were 
in constant danger of being stolen and must be most 
carefully guarded day and night. The commandant at 
the fort verified these rumours in part, and advised 
Mr. Judson to use the utmost caution, once beyond the 
protecting arm of Fort Laramie, and under no cir- 
cumstances to allow any member of the party to go far 
from the trail. 

Up to this time our party had had little trouble with 
the Indians. They had seen many of them, and often 
they had been a great nuisance about the camp and 
along the trail, on account of their petty thieveries and 
[264] 


On the Trail Beyond Fort Laramie 

constant begging, but, with the exception of Ray’s ad- 
venture with the Pawnee horse-thief, all their dealings 
with the redmen had been of the most friendly and 
prosaic nature. Indeed, had it not been for their memo- 
ries of the Delaware chief. Eagle Feather, and his 
companions, Ray and Arthur would have fancied all 
Indians beggars and thieves, and that the majority of 
them were little better than worthless vagabonds and 
far too cowardly and lazy to make successful warriors. 
They could drink all the whisky they could get hold 
of and steal everything they could lay their hands on, 
and stalk about the camp in their dirt and rags and 
feathers and paint, brazenly begging for anything that 
they wanted that they could not steal, but always steal- 
ing it by preference if they could; and that, so far as 
Ray and Arthur were able to judge from their own 
observations, was the extent of their accomplishments, 
and consequently they had become a little contemptuous 
of the noble redman. However, the boys were soon to 
learn that they had other and even less agreeable ac- 
complishments. 

The Judson party remained in camp at Fort Lara- 
mie, resting their horses and oxen and themselves and 
having everything put in the best possible shape for 
the long rough journey across the mountains, until the 
Monday following their arrival, when they again con- 
tinued on their way over the long trail to California. 

The road now became constantly rougher and more 
broken, and consequently more difficult for the passage 
of heavily loaded waggons, and was strewn with frag- 
ments of burnt waggons and goods and merchandise 
of every description, that the desperate emigrants had 
thrown away in their efforts to relieve their weary, 

[265] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

overburdened animals, and almost anything in the way 
of tools or household goods or provisions could be had 
for the picking up. 

Arthur amused and interested himself one day by 
writing down a list of the various things seen along 
the trail during that day that had been abandoned by 
the unfortunate gold-seekers, who, either on account of 
the loss of cattle or because of their worn-out and ex- 
hausted condition, had been forced to throw away 
everything but the barest necessities, and sometimes 
even to continue the long journey on foot with all their 
effects strapped to their backs. When they camped at 
night Arthur read over this melancholy evidence of 
the difficulties that had been encountered by those who 
had gone on before, and a surprising enumeration it 
was even to those who had seen the things with their 
own eyes ! But to us, who live in these later days when 
luxurious palace cars will carry us in a few hours over 
practically the same route that it took those venture- 
some emigrants so many toilsome weeks to traverse, 
the list is a revelation of the pluck and the courage 
and the endurance of these Argonauts of the Western 
World. Here is the list. Read it, boys, and ponder over 
the thought of what it cost our fathers in suffering and 
in treasure to develop the greatness of our great nation. 

This is what Arthur read: 

“ Early in the morning passed the still burning frag- 
ments of a dozen or more waggons that had been 
broken up and set on fire. Near by, in one big heap, 
was six or seven hundred weight of bacon. On the 
ground, scattered all around, were boxes, women’s 
bonnets, trunks, a lot of waggon wheels and boxes, two 
cooking-stoves, a lot of tinware and dishes and things 
[ 266 ] 


On the Trail Beyond Fort Laramie 

to cook with, two tables, a baby’s carriage and a cradle, 
and a lot of other stuff that I didn’t have time to write 
down. A little to one side of the trail lay six dead oxen. 
About a mile farther on passed the bodies of two 
more dead oxen and a horse, and a lot of white beans 
and another pile of bacon. Farther on passed a dead 
cow — more white beans — two freshly made graves side 
by side — carpenter’s planes and chisels — more white 
beans — two feather beds and a bureau — the grave of 
a child — a dead mule — more white beans and a small 
pile of bacon — two heavy blacksmith’s anvils and a 
bellows, a lot of bars of iron and blacksmith’s tools — 
a large broken mirror and a trunk — more white beans 
— two good overcoats and a bundle of bedding and a 
large trunk — a plough and two spades — a large grind- 
stone and two axes — a woman’s shawl and bonnet and 
a large box full of stuff. About four o’clock in the after- 
noon, came to another lot of dead oxen and a pile of 
broken and partly burnt waggons. On the ground, scat- 
tered around the waggons, were three beds and a lot 
of bedding, four stoves, three large trunks, two bu- 
reaus, a pile of overcoats and blankets and other cloth- 
ing, a cradle, about a dozen bushels of white beans 
and about a hundred pounds of bacon, blacksmith’s an- 
vils and bellows, crowbars, bars of iron and steel, two 
sledge-hammers and other blacksmith’s tools, three big 
chunks of lead, baking-ovens, a lot of kegs and barrels, 
augers, chisels, planes, and other carpenter’s tools, and 
a whole lot of other stuff that I couldn’t take the time 
to write down. A mile or two farther on, passed a 
grave that the wolves had dug up — more white beans 
— two dead mules and a steer — Jud picked up a good 
rifle and kept it — two saddles and a harness. Around 

[267] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the spring where we camped at night found six dead 
oxen, two dead mules, three dead cows, four broken 
and partly burnt waggons, a pile of bacon and a lot 
more white beans, and a big lot of other stuff, such as 
stoves, dishes, trunks, and such things, and the graves 
of a baby and two grown-ups.” * 

And this is but the record of one day! And there 
were many days during which that record might have 
been duplicated! 

At the North Fork of the Platte, a distance of some 
one hundred and twenty miles from Fort Laramie, an 
ingenious and courageous man had established a ferry 
for the purpose of carrying across the river, which here 
was rough and dangerous, the emigrants and their 
waggons at two dollars a waggon. 

“ That’s a mighty curious and uncertain-looking 
ferryboat, stranger,” Mr. Judson said to the ferryman 
as he stood on the banks of the river regarding doubt- 
fully the unique ferryboat and its owner. “ And I 
reckon it’s almost as uncertain and dangerous as the 
river itself; but, betwixt and between the two, I’ll risk 
the ferry, so get her ready for this outfit as speedily as 
possible.” 

The ferryboat was, indeed, a curious and uncertain- 
looking affair, made by fastening seven canoes, dug 
from cottonwood logs, together side by side with poles. 

* This list is made up from an account of the things actually found 
along the trail by Captain Howard Stansbury of the Corps of Topo- 
graphical Engineers, United States Army, who made the journey from 
Fort Leavenworth to Salt Lake City, accompanied by a number of 
emigrants on their way to the gold mines of California, during the 
summer of 1849, as given in his report to his chief. 

[268] 


On the Trail Beyond Fort Laramie 

A couple of hewn logs laid across the top of these 
afforded a resting-place for the wheels of the waggon, 
while a rope, stretched across the river and fastened at 
both ends to the shores, to which the ferryboat was at- 
tached, furnished the means of locomotion. Only the 
waggons and the human beings could be carried over 
the river on this rude craft. The animals were obliged 
to ferry themselves across with their own legs, which 
they did in safety after a little urging. 

Ray and Arthur and Mildred perched themselves on 
the seat of the first waggon to be taken across, while 
Mr. and Mrs. Judson stood on the hewn logs by the side 
of the waggon. All went well until they were within a 
couple of rods of the opposite shore, when a swirling 
eddy suddenly struck the unwieldy raft, the boat gave a 
violent lurch sideways, causing one of the front wag- 
gon-wheels to slip off its support and to fall down 
between two of the canoes, and throwing Mildred 
from her seat into the water. The river was swollen 
with recent rains, and deep and swift, and before a 
hand could be outstretched to catch her, the rapid cur- 
rent had borne the unfortunate girl beyond reach. But 
hardly had her body struck the water when it was fol- 
lowed by two others, and Ray and Arthur were swim- 
ming desperately in the wake of the struggling girl. 

Ray was the first to reach Mildred’s side. 

‘‘ Keep cool. There is no danger, we are so near 
the shore,” he admonished, catching hold of one of 
her arms and turning toward the shore. 

But Mildred was in a frenzy of fright, and in- 
capable of reasoning, and wildly throwing both arms 
around Ray she clung to him with all her strength, 
rendering him almost helpless, and in a moment both 
[269] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

were under the water. When they again came to the 
surface, Arthur had reached their sides, and it was 
fortunate for Ray and Mildred that he had, for so 
tightly were Mildred’s arms clenched around Ray’s 
neck that it was impossible for him to loosen them, 
and both would have soon drowned. 

Indeed, it was only after a desperate struggle that 
the two boys finally succeeded in getting the frantic 
girl, near enough to the shore to catch hold of a long 
pole that the excited ferryman was holding out to them, 
when the three were quickly pulled to the safety of the 
land. 

Mildred was almost unconscious, and Ray and Ar- 
thur were completely exhausted by their terrible strug- 
gle in the swirling waters. 

“ You’d have made it an even thirty, if you’d have 
went under, that th’ Platte has got since I came here,” 
the ferryman informed them as he pulled the children 
to the shore. “ You’re mighty quick-motioned young 
fellers,” and his eyes rested admiringly on Ray and 
Arthur, “ an’ ’twas mighty lucky for th’ leetle gal that 
you be. ’Tain’t th’ custom of th’ Platte tew give up its 
hold on anything that it gets its wet arms around. 
Shake. You’re brave lads,” and he gripped each one of 
them by the hand. 

“ We’re used to the water, and can swim ’most as 
good as fishes, and the wetting wasn’t nothing,” Ray 
explained, as if fearful of receiving too much credit 
for his bravery. 

“ No, of course ’twasn’t nothing,” and Mr. Judson 
gripped the hands of Ray and Arthur hard and fast. 
“ Of course ’twasn’t nothing to you boys, but — ” and 
his voice choked — “ ’twas a whole lot to me and Cat 
[270] 


On the Trail Beyond Fort Laramie 

and Dimples,” and his eyes turned to where Mrs. Jud- 
son stood with Mildred in her arms. “ Thank God for 
sending you two boys along with us ! ” and he shook 
their hands until Arthur and Ray thought he would 
shake their arms loose from their shoulders. ‘‘ Now, 
get into the waggon and get into some dry clothes,” 
and he gave the two lads a push toward the waggon, 
which had been safely drawn up on the land. 

The other waggons and passengers were carried 
across the river without accident, and the journey was 
at once resumed. 


[ 271 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 


INDIANS I INDIANS I 

H ello, there’s another News Exchange and 
Post Office I ” Ray, who had galloped a dozen 
rods ahead of the slow-moving oxen to the 
summit of a small ridge, shouted back to Mildred and 
Arthur late in the afternoon of the day following the 
day of their adventure at the North Fork. “ Wonder 
if there are any letters for us. Come on. Let’s see what 
the news is,” and he galloped down the other side of 
the ridge to a spot where a number of huge rocks 
thrust themselves up out of the sandy plain in such a 
way as to form a tolerable dry cave, some ten feet 
deep by six or seven feet high, 'with a flat bottom cov- 
ered with clean white sand. In front of this cave a 
pole, driven down deep in the sand, had nailed to its 
top a board on which some one had rudely printed in 
big black letters: 

CALIFORNIA EMIGRANTS’ POST OFFICE 
AND NEWS EXCHANGE 

It was this large sign that had caught Ray’s eyes and 
caused him to shout back to Mildred and Arthur, who 
had joined him as quickly as their horses’ legs could 
bring them, for these unique “ Newspapers ” and 

[ 272 ] 


Indians! Indians! 

** Post Offices ” of the trail were a source of the great- 
est interest and amusement to all who journeyed over 
its lonely, dreary length, and especially to Ray and 
Arthur and Mildred, who on several occasions had 
even found “ letters ’’ for themselves left by some ac- 
quaintance of the trail who had passed on ahead of 
them. Then there was always valuable information con- 
cerning the nature of the trail ahead to be found scrib- 
bled on the “ Post Office ” walls or written on papers 
thrust in the split ends of sticks and stuck up in the 
ground, while many of the messages left were as amus- 
ing and witty as they were interesting. 

There were many of these “ Post Offices,” as the 
children called them, scattered along the trail, where 
the passing emigrants wrote their names, the date of 
their passing, the state of their health and the con- 
dition of their animals, and left their messages for 
friends and acquaintances who might be expected to 
follow, while those who had already been over the trail 
and were returning, left many valuable items of infor- 
mation concerning the fords, the grass, wood, and 
water, and the condition of the road on ahead. It was 
thus, as well as by word of mouth, that the intelli- 
gence of the trail passed back and forth, and the emi- 
grants came to know the names, origin, and character 
of most of the companies in the long white line of 
moving waggons stretching half way across a great 
continent. 

Sometimes these messages and names were written 
on the smooth, flat surface of some wayside rock. Such 
was “ Register Rock.” Again they were nailed to trees 
and stumps or cut in the wood and rock with chisel and 
knife or inscribed on the bleached front of buffalo 

[ 273 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

skulls and shoulder-blades and left by the trail side. 
But most frequently they were written on paper, tightly 
folded, and thrust into the split end of a stick, which 
was stuck up in the ground in some sheltered spot vis- 
ible from the trail. Caves and crevices in the rocks, 
within sight of the trail, were always utilised for 
“ Post Offices ” and “ News Exchanges,” because of 
the protection from the weather they gave the “ mail ” ; 
and it was to one of such that the children had now 
come. 

The moment Ray and Arthur and Mildred reached 
the cave they jumped off their horses and began eagerly 
examining the messages and names written on the walls 
of the cave or on pieces of paper thrust into the split 
ends of pointed sticks, which were stuck upright in the 
sand that covered the bottom of the cave, reading aloud 
such as interested them most. 

“Oh, listen to this,” Mildred laughed, reading: 

If I’d knowed what was before me, I’d never broke out of jail 
to git to Californee. 

“ ‘ About forty miles to Independence Rock,’ ” read 
Arthur. “ ‘ Mosquitoes and gnats and snakes is the only 
things that grow along the trail.’ ” 

“ ‘ Don’t let your critters drink of the water in Ded 
Cow Crik,’ ” read another phonetic warning. “ ‘ It’s 
pisen.’ ” 

“ ‘ Grass scarce as hen’s teeth atween here and the 
Sweetwater — sand powerful bad — water not fit for a 
skunk to drink,’ ” Ray read. “ Well, that’s encour- 
aging- ” 

“ Listen to this,” Arthur broke in, excitedly reading: 

[ 274] 


Indians! Indians! 

All emigrants are warned to beware of Indians between here and 
the Sweetwater Valley; and especially cautioned not to travel in small 
parties, but, when possible, to join together in large trains for mutual 
protection; and to keep a most vigilant guard during the hours of the 
night; and to corral all animals within the circle of the waggons. 

“ And It’s signed,” Arthur continued, “ by Captain 
Duncan, Mounted Rifles, United States Army, sta- 
tioned at Fort Laramie, and dated only two days back; 
so it’s straight, and means we’ll have to keep our eyes 
open if we don’t want to get scalped.” 

‘‘ Do look here ! ” Mildred suddenly cried, pulling a 
piece of torn wrapping paper from a split stick. “ I — I 
— I think this must be meant for Tom Rawlins,” and 
her face whitened. 

“ Well, Tom Rawlins is right on the spot,” laughed 
the big fellow, extending his hand for the torn paper. 
“ Wonder if it’s from my best girl,” and he grinned, 
but his face sobered the moment he read what had 
been written on the torn slip of paper. “The skunk! 
There won’t be any chance for a next shot if I see him 
first. Read that,” and he handed the paper to Jedidiah 
Judson, who had entered the cave with him. 

This was what Mr. Judson read, written with red 
ink — or blood: 

To THE Big Red Bull: 

Thought I got you sure the tother day at the BIulFs; but the next 
shot will do the business. 

The paper was unsigned except by a huge blot of red. 

“ The cowardly sneak I He’s more to be feared than 
a brave man, because you can’t tell when, nor how, 

[ 275 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

nor where he’s apt to strike. Look out for him, Tom,” 
and Mr. Judson handed the paper back to Tom 
Rawlins. 

” Now, jest take a squint at that notice,” Jud Jimp- 
son said, pointing to Captain Duncan’s warning. “ I 
reckon we’d better pay strict ’tendon tew what that 
paper says. Leastwise I’ve always found that them army 
officers never warns without reasons.” 

Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins at once read over the 
warning, and then the three men held a council of war, 
and it was determined to push on with all possible 
speed, in the hope of overtaking in a day or two a 
large company of emigrants that had passed the ” Post 
Office ” only the morning of the day before, and who, 
on account of their numbers and the probable condi- 
tion of their oxen, would not be likely to travel nearly 
as fast as our friends could if hard pushed. Usually 
the Judson party had had no lack of company, but for 
the past two days, owing probably to the concentration 
of the emigrants into large companies on account of 
their fear of the Indians, they had been travelling al- 
most entirely by themselves, and when they reached the 
“ Post Office ” there was not another emigrant in sight 
up or down the trail, something that had seldom oc- 
curred before. 

” Now, I’ll jest ride on a few rods ahead, an’ make 
sure we don’t run intew no ambush,” Jud Jimpson said 
when our friends were ready to resume their journey. 
“You tew boys can take turns drivin’ Tom’s oxen, an’ 
Tom’ll drive mine. Everybody keep their guns loaded 
an’ ready for instant business. ’Tain’t likely we’ll see 
no Injuns, but if we do, an’ they’re hostile, we’ll need 
our guns mighty sudden,” and jumping on the back 
[276] 


Indians! Indians! 

of one of the horses he galloped on a quarter of a 
mile ahead of the waggons. 

Unfortunately, the trail now ran through a deep, 
heavy, white sand, hard on the human beings, harder 
on the horses, and hardest of all on the oxen drawing 
the heavy waggons; consequently they were compelled 
to travel slowly, and w’hen they camped at night they 
were obliged to turn aside a mile or more from the trail 
in order to find grass and water for the wearied animals. 

That night, for the first time when there was fuel, 
no camp-fire was built, and when the animals had been 
watered and had eaten their fill of grass, they were 
driven into a corral formed by the three waggons drawn 
up in a circle, and with the gaps between fenced by 
strong ropes stretched from waggon to waggon and 
firmly fastened. 

Ray and Arthur and Tom Rawlins stood on guard 
during the first hours of that long, anxious night. At one 
o’clock they were relieved by Jud Jimpson and Mr. 
Judson. But the night passed quietly, without a dis- 
turbance of any kind, and by early sunrise of the next 
morning the oxen were yoked to the waggons and our 
party were again on their way. 

About nine o’clock Jud Jimpson, who was riding 
nearly half a mile in advance of the waggons, suddenly 
whirled his horse about on reaching the summit of a 
low ridge that lay between two small valleys, and gal- 
loped swiftly back toward the waggons. 

Instantly the waggons were halted. 

“ Get in the waggon with your mother! ” Mr. Jud- 
son called sharply to Mildred, who was riding by the 
side of Arthur near Ray, who was driving Tom Raw- 
lins’s oxen. 


[ 277 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Wheel the waggons into a half circle facing the 
ridge, and get the oxen and horses inside the circle,” 
he directed Tom Rawlins and the two boys. 

In three minutes this had been done, and all faces 
turned anxiously to Jud Jimpson, who galloped up at 
that moment at full speed. 

“ It’s Injuns! ” he cried, as he flung himself off the 
back of his horse and quickly tied him to one of the 
waggon-wheels. “ A war-party of Blackfeet, th’ ugliest 
vermin on all these plains; but, thank God, there’s not 
more’n a couple of dozen of ’em, an’ I reckon we’re 
more’n a match for twice that number. Good! ” and 
his bright eyes flashed a swift glance over the sur- 
rounding plain. “ Not even a blade of grass for th’ 
red devils tew hide behind. Now, jest git them tent- 
bags, an’ th’ other bags an’ boxes an’ things out of th’ 
waggins an’ pile ’em up under th’ middle waggin for 
th’ women folks an’ yunks tew git behind. Sum of them 
Injuns have got guns, an’ a waggin-cover is a mighty 
poor protection ’g’inst bullets, or arrows either. They’ll 
be ridin’ over th’ top of that ridge in ’bout ten minutes, 
so we’ll have tew git a hustle on if we’re ready for 
’em,” and Jud ran to his own waggon, and, helped by 
his wife, began throwing out such things as would serve 
for the barricade. 

In five minutes, so swiftly did everybody work, the 
middle waggon was tightly barricaded with bags, 
boxes, and other things taken from the waggons, and 
the “ women folks an’ th’ yunks ” were safely behind 
its shelter. 

“ Now,” and Jud Jimpson’s eyes fell on the cattle 
and horses huddled together near the centre of the 
semi-circle, “ hobble them critters as quick as God’ll 

[ 278 ] 


Indians! Indians! 

let you. We sure don’t want no stampedin’ of them 
animals.” 

In a very short time the “ critters ” were all hob- 
bled, but not a moment too soon, for as the last hobble 
was fastened around the legs of the last ox, the heads 
of the Indians appeared above the top of the ridge. 

“ There they come I ” shouted Ray excitedly. 

“ Everybody with rifles git where they can use ’em 
best an’ protect themselves best, an’ don’t fire a shot 
till I give th’ word,” Jud Jimpson directed, springing 
behind the hub of one of the front wheels of his own 
waggon, and resting the long barrel of his rifle on one 
of its spokes. 

Arthur and Ray quickly ensconced themselves, at 
Mr. Judson’s bidding, behind either end of the barri- 
caded waggon, while Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins 
protected themselves as best they could back of the 
remaining waggon. 

The Indians halted on the brow of the ridge half 
a mile away, and stared excitedly at the little company 
of emigrants, apparently studying how best to make 
the attack. There were twenty-three of them, dressed 
in all their war-finery and mounted on their war-ponies. 

“Keep down close to the ground, all you women folks 
and kids, and don’t do any peeking,” Mr. Judson called 
to the little crowd behind the barricade. “ We men can 
give the Indians all the attention they need, I reckon,” 
and his jaws came together grimly. “ Don’t get scary 
when the circus begins. ’Twill be mostly noise. Them 
Indians won’t come close enough to do much else than 
yell after our first volley. Keep cool and fire steady, 
boys — Ah, here they come! ” 

As Mr. Judson spoke, the Indians charged furiously 

[ 279 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

down the ridge straight toward the emigrants, bran- 
dishing their weapons and yelling their war-cries. 

They made a thrilling sight, one to cause the red 
blood to jump in the veins and the muscles to grow 
tense and the breath to come in quick gasps; and no 
wonder that, for the first few moments of that fear- 
ful on-rush of yelling savages, the hands of Ray and 
Arthur shook so they could hardly hold their rifles, and 
that Scoot began burrowing in the sand, like a fright- 
ened badger, while Mildred clung trembling to her 
mother, and the Jimpson family huddled together in 
a shuddering heap as close to the barricade as they 
could get. 

“ Steady, steady, lads! ” called Mr. Judson cheerily. 
“ That racket won’t hurt nobody. It’s only Indian 
bluff.” 

“ Aim at their bosses! ” Jud Jimpson cried. “ Aim 
at their bosses! An’ don’t shoot ’til I give th’ word.” 

On, on came the Indians, their wild horses running 
at full speed, their blankets and plumes fluttering in 
the wind, their decorations glittering in the sun, their 
weapons whirling threateningly around their heads, 
their voices yelling that most dreadful of all sounds — 
the Indian war-whoop; on they came, headed straight 
for the waggons, as if they would plunge headlong 
over them, a solid mass of yelling savages and plung- 
ing horses. 

“Why, oh, why don’t Jud tell us to shoot?” and 
Arthur glanced anxiously to where Ray was kneeling 
at his end of the waggon, his rifle to his shoulder, his 
white cheek pressed tightly against its butt, his eye 
glancing along the levelled barrel, his finger on the 
trigger, all the trembling gone from his frame, all the 
^ [280] 


Indians! Indians! 

fear from his heart, ready to fire on the Instant of 
the command. 

“ He’s waiting for the right moment,” Ray replied 
without lifting his cheek from the rifle butt or taking 
his eye from the sights. “ I’ll take that big black horse. 
Art. You aim at that white-faced bay.” 

“ Git ready,” shouted Jud JImpson from his wag- 
gon. “They’re goln’ tew break I ” 

As he spoke the solid mass of Indians, now about 
forty rods away, suddenly divided, turning to the right 
and left to circle around the waggons, while at the 
same moment, every yelling warrior vanished, as If 
struck off his horse’s back by the hand of magic. 

Ray and Arthur stared at the circling horses In as- 
tonishment, but the next moment the mystery stood 
revealed when, from under the horses’ necks, white 
puffs of smoke shot forth, and the crack-crack of rifles 
were heard, and a bullet or two tore through the can- 
vas of the waggon-cover above their heads. These 
splendid horsemen, at the Instant of their turning, had 
dropped to the off sides of their horses and clung there, 
making a moving breastwork of the bodies of their 
trained war-ponies. 

“ Now — steady — aim at th’ bosses I ” Jud JImpson 
called. “ Ready — FIRE I ” and the flame leaped from 
his rifle barrel and the rifle barrels of the others. 

Down went two of the horses, as If they had been 
suddenly struck on the heads with axes, throwing their 
riders headlong to the ground, and the black horse and 
the bay horse plunged wildly. 

“ We hit! We both hit! ” shouted Arthur, excitedly 
beginning to reload his rifle. 

“ Oh, If my gun was only loaded now 1 ” exclaimed 
[281 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Ray, as the two Indians who had been thrown from 
their horses’ backs jumped to their feet and started 
toward their mounted companions, two of whom had 
turned and were now galloping toward them. 

But the rifle that Jud Jimpson had picked up along 
the trail had enabled him to prepare for just such an 
emergency, and almost at the moment one of the 
mounted Indians reached the side of the foremost of 
the running warriors, evidently a chief by his head- 
dress, the extra rifle cracked, and the chief bounded 
up into the air like a struck deer, and fell to the ground 
all doubled up and lay still. 

It was a splendid shot, and Mr. Judson and Tom 
Rawlins cheered, heartily seconded by Ray and Arthur, 
but Jud Jimpson was too busy reloading his rifles to 
cheer. 

Then they saw the mounted Indian do a deed of rare 
bravery. He quickly dismounted, within range of that 
deadly rifle, lifted the body of his chief in his arms, 
placed it across the back of his horse, and, mounting, 
rode off shouting his cries of defiance. 

In the meantime the other dismounted Indian had 
sprung to the back of a horse behind a companion, and 
all had galloped swiftly out of range of the white 
man’s deadly rifle, leaving behind two dead horses, and 
bearing away with them the dead body of their chief 
and two badly wounded ponies. 

“ Don’t think they’ll want another dose of that kind 
of medicine right soon ag’in,” Jud Jimpson observed 
as he shoved a bullet down the long barrel of his rifle. 
“ Injuns is mighty careful ’bout gettin’ in th’ way of 
flyin’ hunks of lead,” and he chuckled. “Them — hi- 
hol What new devilment is tew happen now? ” and he 
[ ] 


Indians! Indians! 

looked anxiously toward the Indians, who by this time 
had reached the top of the ridge whence they had made 
their mad charge, and, as he spoke, had uttered a wild 
yell of exultation and defiance and had dashed down 
the other side of the ridge and vanished. 

“Hurrah! There they go!” shouted Arthur tri- 
umphantly, jumping to his feet and swinging his hat 
around his head. “ The cowards ! Not even to give a 
fellow a chance for a second shot at them ! ” 

“ Jest hold your bosses, hold your bosses, bub,” and 
Jud Jimpson turned a pair of anxious eyes on Arthur. 
“ I reckon you’ll git more’n a second shot. That wa’n’t 
no gitaway yell. That yell meant triumph an’ revenge, 
not defeat.” 

“ What do you make out of it, Jud? ” Mr. Judson 
asked, coming over and standing by the side of Jud 
Jimpson. 

“ More Injuns,” Jud answered briefly, his eyes 
glancing anxiously around the half-circle made by the 
waggons. “ An’ there’s nothin’ tew pertect us on that 
side,” and he pointed to the unprotected half of the 
circle. 

“ Everybody turn out to help throw up a breast- 
work! ” shouted Mr. Judson, seeing at once the urgent 
need of protecting the part of the circle where there 
were no waggons if they were to be attacked by a 
larger force of Indians. 

There was no need of repeating the command. 
Everybody large enough to hold a shovel or spade, 
even the two women and Mildred and Sally Jimpson, 
seized one or the other of these implements and began 
frantically throwing up an embankment between the 
two ends of the half-circle made by the waggons. 

[283] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Fortunately, the soil was a loose sand into which the 
shovel or spade cut easily, and so swiftly did the nine 
pairs of arms work that in the half-hour given them 
before the Indians reappeared, they had thrown up a 
breastwork nearly five feet high and thick enough to 
stop a rifle ball or an arrow, across the unprotected 
half of the circle. 

First a couple of Indians, evidently scouts, appeared 
on the top of the ridge, who, seeing that the emigrants 
were still at a safe distance, turned and signalled to 
those behind them, and almost the next moment, so it 
seemed to the startled eyes of Ray and Arthur, the top 
of the ridge swarmed with Indian warriors mounted 
on their war-ponies. 

The three men dropped their shovels, caught up their 
rifles, and with whitening faces watched the gathering 
of their savage enemies on the ridge-top. 

“ There must be at least two hundred of them! Two 
hundred against five, and two of them boys I ” and Mr. 
Judson’s anxious eyes searched the surrounding plain 
in the desperate hope of seeing some succour, but as 
far as the eye could reach there was not a friendly 
being in sight, only the bare level of the sandy plain 
and the ridge swarming with Indians, maddened by the 
death of one of their favourite chiefs. “ My God! why 
did I ever bring Cat and Dimples into such perils? ” 
and he turned his anguished eyes to where Mildred 
stood clinging to her mother, her eyes, big and round 
with terror, fixed on the Indians, and the roses gone 
from her cheeks. “ But,” and his strong jaws came 
together tightly, “ them Indians haven’t got us yet. 
Come, Cat,” and quickly stepping to the side of his 
wife, he put his arms around the two, “ brace up, 
[284] 


Indians! Indians! 

’Tain’t half as hopeless as it looks. That bunch of 
Indians is mostly noise and feathers. Just wait and 
see us puncture their noise-bags and send their feathers 
flying. Now, get over to your barricade, and keep down 
close to the ground,” and stooping quickly he kissed 
his wife, and catching Mildred up in his arms he car- 
ried her to the barricade, holding her close, and there 
were tears in his eyes, even while his lips smiled, as 
he placed her on the ground. 

“ Papa ! Papa ! ” and Mildred’s arms clung tightly 
around his neck. “ Papa, you won’t let the Indians get 
Mildred, will you? ” 

“ Well, I reckon not,” Mr. Judson answered cheer- 
ily. “ Now, be my own brave little girl, and keep close 
to your mother, and when the noise begins, just fancy 
it’s a Fourth of July celebration — Quick! Kiss me. 
Papa must go now,” and snatching a kiss from Mil- 
dred’s trembling lips, he hurried to his place behind 
the waggon, where Tom Rawlins was already crouch- 
ing, for at that moment the dread war-whoop of the 
Indians fell on his ears and told him that the fight 
for life had begun. 

The savages had halted for a few minutes on the 
ridge-top, to gather themselves for the charge, but now 
down they rushed toward the waggons, shouting their 
war-cries and flourishing their weapons, two hundred 
yelling fiends on horseback. 

“ Hold your fire ’til I tell you tew shoot,” again 
cautioned Jud Jimpson. “Take sure aim! Make every 
shot tell I Aim at th’ bosses 1 ” 

On came the Indians, but this time they divided be- 
fore they came within rifle range, and swept in great 
circles to right and left of the waggons, each warrior 
[285] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

running his horse separately, and the more venturesome 
among them gradually drawing nearer and nearer to 
the waggons as they raced round and round the little 
encampment of whites. Closer and closer drew this 
dreadful circle, clearer and louder sounded the war- 
cries, plainer and more fearful became the wild, painted 
visages. Still Jud Jimpson withheld his word to fire. 

Now the inner circle of Indians were out of their 
saddles, clinging to the sides of their horses and shoot- 
ing from under their necks, and always slowly coming 
nearer and nearer. The poorly-aimed bullets whistled 
through the air and tore through the waggon-covers 
and boxes, and two of the frightened oxen were hit, 
adding their bellows and struggles to the turmoil and 
excitement. 

“ Steady now, steady,” called Jud Jimpson, his cheek 
against the butt of his rifle. “ Aim jest a leetle ahead 
of th’ bosses’ shoulders. Careful ! Don’t waste a shot I 
Take the boss straight in front of you. Ready — aim 
—fire!” 

The five rifles spoke almost at the same instant, and 
so well were they aimed that four of the ponies tumbled 
to the ground, throwing their riders over their heads. 

Instantly the dismounted Indians jumped to their 
feet, and ran to leap on the back of a horse behind a 
companion, but before they could do this, Jud Jimp- 
son’s extra rifle flamed and the two heavy revolvers 
of Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins cracked, and one of 
the Indians stumbled headlong to the ground, while 
two others fell, but instantly jumped to their feet again, 
and a moment later were picked up by companions 
and borne beyond rifle range. 

Ray and Arthur opened their mouths to cheer, but 

[286] 


Indians! Indians! 

that cheer was never uttered, for at that moment Jud 
Jimpson sprang to his feet, and shouting, “ God in 
heaven, they’re goin’ tew charge th’ breastwork ! ” 
leaped to the earthwork they had thrown up across the 
opening between the two outer waggons, pulling his 
revolvers from his belt as he did so. 

Almost at the same instant Tom Rawlins and Mr. 
Judson were by his side, and a moment later Ray and 
Arthur, their revolvers in their hands, were glaring 
over the top of the breastwork into the faces of the 
on-rushing Indians, who were doing an almost unpre- 
cedented thing in Indian warfare in thus boldly charg- 
ing a partially fortified camp. 

“ Shoot ! Shoot ! ” shouted Jud Jimpson. “ Shoot ! 
We’ve got tew stop ’em, we’ve got tew stop ’em be- 
fore they git tew th’ breastwork ! ” and he began blazing 
away with a revolver in each hand. 

Each of the men had two heavy Colt’s revolvers, 
and Ray and Arthur both carried smaller but almost 
equally effective weapons at short range; and in a mo- 
ment all these ten guns were pouring leaden bullets 
into the charging Indians as fast as thumbs and fingers 
could lift hammers and press triggers. 

But straight on came the Indians, led by a gigantic 
chief on a huge black horse. Four or five horses went 
down, two or three Indians reeled in their saddles, but 
the black horse and the huge chief came on, his painted 
face working like the face of a furious fiend, and close 
behind him pressed a hundred yelling savages. They 
struck the barrier and swept over it, as a raging flood 
sweeps over a petty embankment. 

Ray and Arthur could never remember distinctly 
what happened during the next few minutes. As in a 

[287] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

horribly vivid nightmare they saw the black horse and 
the huge chief plunge over the sand breastwork; saw 
the air behind them filled with the foam-flecked heads 
of rushing horses, flashing weapons, and demoniacal 
faces; saw Jud Jimpson go down before a blow of the 
giant chief; saw Tom Rawlins, with a mighty sweep of 
his clubbed rifle, clear a space around him and leap 
upon the huge savage; and then the air in front of 
them was filled with flashing knives and tomahawks, 
and clutching hands and bare muscular arms, and blind- 
ing lights — and they saw and felt no more for many 
minutes. 


[288 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 


RED ELK 

W HEN Ray and Arthur came back to con- 
sciousness the fight was over. Both lay on 
the ground side by side, their hands and 
feet bound together with buckskin thongs and their 
heads feeling as if they had been hit with sledge- 
hammers, but otherwise they appeared to be unhurt. 
All around them were Indians, moving swiftly. They 
struggled up into a sitting position and stared wildly 
around. 

Hello ! Woke up, have you? called a cheery voice 
behind them. 

The boys turned their heads quickly and saw Tom 
Rawlins sitting on the ground not four feet behind 
them, his arms and legs tightly bound with ropes, 
and the clothing nearly torn off his great body, but 
apparently unhurt except for a number of flesh 
wounds. 

“ Mr. Judson — Mildred — ” and Ray’s voice shook 
so that he could not finish the question. 

“ Not a man dead or missing, except Scoot,” prompt- 
ly responded Tom Rawlins. “ The Lord only knows 
where that little black nigger has gone, unless he was 
that scart that he shook himself to pieces and vanished 
in the sand,” and Tom Rawlins laughed. “ Everybody 

[289] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

else IS all right, barring a few knocks and cuts. The 
women folks and the kids are over yonder by that 
waggon,” and he nodded in the direction of one of the 
waggons. “ And Jed and Jud are behind that bunch of 
Indians standing in front of you. Now, boys,” and his 
eyes rested soberly on the white faces of Ray and Ar- 
thur, “ don’t lose your nerve. Never say die till you’re 
dead, that’s my motto, and a mighty good motto I have 
found it. We’ll get out of this yet. Mark my words, 
we’ll get out of this yet,” he repeated confidently and 
cheerfully, and his voice and words were like a tonic 
to the drooping spirits of the boys. 

Near the barricaded waggon stood the huge Indian 
chief, who had led the charge, and around him were 
gathered half a dozen of his bravest warriors, listen- 
ing to his rapidly spoken words. The big Indian had 
not come out of the fight unscathed, for blood was 
trickling down his neck from a scalp wound, one of 
his cheeks was bruised and swollen, and his right breast 
was red from a flesh wound in his shoulder, but he 
had received no serious hurt. 

Evidently the chief was excited, for as he spoke he 
gesticulated violently and pointed eastward, and ap- 
peared to be urging haste of some kind. 

Suddenly, in the midst of his harangue, he stepped 
backward, close to the barricade of goods piled up 
under the waggon, and the next instant, with a yell 
that could have been heard a mile, he leaped straight 
up into the air, with something black and squirming 
clinging to and clawing at one of his bare legs. The 
brave warriors around him tumbled over themselves in 
their fear and haste to get out of the reach of that 
dread black thing that had sprung upon their chief 

[ 290] 


Red Elk 

from the very ground at his feet. The chief kicked 
and yelled, and then reaching down, seized the black 
thing with both of his great hands, pulled it loose from 
his leg, and held it up, kicking and squirming, in front 
of his astonished face. 

“Scoot! Scoot! It’s Scoot!” yelled Arthur. “It’s 
Scoot, as sure as I am alive ! ” and he stared in open- 
eyed wonder at the little negro boy, held dangling 
in the air by the big chief, whose astounded eyes had 
never before seen a black pickaninny. 

Scoot’s eyes were rolling like white marbles in his 
head, his India-rubber mouth was twisting and jerking 
all over the lower part of his face, and his legs were 
going like the fans of a windmill in a hurricane, while 
the big Indian stood staring blankly at him, trying to 
make out what sort of a thing he held in his hands. 
Suddenly one of the whirling feet struck the chief a 
hard thump on the end of the nose. 

“ Ugh ! Heap bad black medicine ! ” and the chief 
dropped Scoot, jumped back from him, and rubbing 
his nose, commanded one of his warriors to catch and 
bind the white man’s “ black medicine toad.” 

In order to do this with the least possible trouble 
and to assure himself that the black thing was mortal, 
the warrior swung back his tomahawk and was about 
to hurl It at the negro boy, when Scoot bounded to his 
feet, gave one frightened glance at the circle of dusky 
warriors that hemmed him In, and began jumping up 
and down in a wild ecstasy of fear. 

The tomahawk was stayed, and the circle of Indians 
looked In wonder and not a little superstitious dread 
at the little black jumping figure of the boy. 

“ Jig it! Give them a jig! ” shouted Tom Rawlins. 

[291 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ They’ll think you’re making heap big medicine, and 
won’t dare touch a kink of your woolly head! ” 

And Scoot did give them a jig! And such a jig as he 
had never danced before, and probably would never 
dance again, for fear lent nimbleness to his legs, and 
as he danced he piped a shrill weird accompaniment to 
the beatings of his feet. 

Not a hand was raised to stop him nor to harm him, 
and he danced until, catching sight of Ray and Arthur, 
he gave a wild yell of joy, and darting to themj 
crouched between the two boys. 

For a moment the Indians stood spellbound, then 
the big chief spoke sharply and the spell was broken, 
but thereafter the little black body of Scoot was sacred. 
Not an Indian would touch him, though he was watched 
closely. 

Again the big chief harangued his warriors, again 
emphasising his words by frequently pointing to the 
east, but he spoke only for a few minutes, when he 
appeared to gain his point, for with loud yells and cries 
all but about twenty-five of the warriors sprang on the 
backs of their ponies and galloped swiftly away toward 
the west, evidently in pursuit of another party of emi- 
grants. 

The big chief at once turned and strode to where 
Tom Rawlins sat. 

“ White Bull,” he said, “ Red Elk great chief,” and 
he thumped one of his breasts with his huge fist. “ He 
no fraid white man’s guns. Like hurricane he strike his 
enemies — smash! Warriors,” and he made a sweeping 
gesture toward the departing Indians, “ say kill and go 
before white soldiers come. Red Elk say, no, take white 
prisoners and waggons to mountains quick, where kill 
[292] 


Red Elk 

slow, like great warriors. Warriors go to get more 
white prisoners. Red Elk stay to take prisoners to 
mountains. Red Elk heap great chief. He no ox-driver. 
Red Elk make hands and feet free, white men drive 
oxen, oxen draw tent-waggons. No try to escape, no 
hurt. Try run, kill. What say White Bull? ” 

“ Good,” Tom Rawlins answered promptly, rejoiced 
to find that there was to be no immediate killing and 
that the galling bonds were to be taken from his hands 
and feet. “ White man willing. Free our hands and 
legs and we’ll have the oxen yoked to the waggons in 
a jiffy, and drive them anywhere you want us to — 
and take it all out on your ugly old mug at the very 
first opportunity,” he added under his breath. 

“How? ” and Red Elk glared at him suspiciously. 

“ Bully — good — all right,” and Tom Rawlins nod- 
ded his head toward the oxen and then toward the 
waggons and smiled. 

The chief turned to his warriors and gave a num- 
ber of sharp commands, and for the next few minutes 
there were busy times for Indians and white men. 

The hands and feet of Mr. Judson, Tom Rawlins, 
Jud Jimpson, and the two boys were freed; long ropes 
were tied around the waist of each and held by an 
Indian, tethering him to a warrior like an ox to a 
stake ; and they were bade to yoke the oxen to the wag- 
gons, and gently urged to make haste with the sharp 
points of knives and spears. The women folks, and 
Mildred and the Jimpson children, and Scoot, were 
all piled in one of the waggons; the wounded Indians 
and the dead — there were five badly wounded and two 
dead Indians — were placed in the other two waggons; 
the goods that had been used for the barricade were 

[293] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

hastily thrown back into a waggon ; and in ten minutes, 
so quickly did every one work under the watchful eyes 
of the terrible Red Elk, the waggons were again mov- 
ing over the sandy plain. 

Ray and Arthur were forced to trot along by the 
sides of their mounted captors, the ropes still fastened to 
their waists, while Red Elk himself rode Getthere, and 
other warriors sat astride of Black Duke and Beauty 
and the other horses. The three men were compelled 
to drive the oxen and to urge them to their utmost speed. 
Red Elk led the way, and as he rode he was ever cast- 
ing apprehensive glances eastward over his shoulder. 
Evidently his fear of the coming of the white soldiers 
was great. 

They turned directly from the trail and struck across 
the plains to the south and west, toward a break in a 
low mountain-like range of bluffs, and after a couple 
of hours of the hardest kind of travelling for man and 
beast, they reached the bluffs and entered a water-worn 
chasm that once had been the bed of a mighty river. 
For four hours longer the weary men and boys and 
oxen were forced, with relentless cruelty, through wind- 
ing chasms and canyons, and up and down steep banks, 
and across streams of water, until they had lost all 
sense of direction and were ready to fall to the ground 
with fatigue, and then they came suddenly to a beau- 
tiful grass-covered and flower-decked valley, not more 
than a mile wide by two miles long, and shut in on 
all sides, save where they had entered, by high hills. 
Through the centre of this delightful valley ran a clear 
stream of water, and along its banks grew little groves 
of great trees. In one of these groves Red Elk halted, 
and signified that the camp would be made there. 

[294] 


Red Elk 

Ray and Arthur and the three men, although so 
wearied by the severity of their forced march that they 
could hardly stand on their feet, were compelled to do 
all the work of pitching the camp and caring for the 
animals. They were not allowed to speak to one an- 
other, nor to the women and the children. A single 
word would bring a blow or the jab of a knife point, 
and they soon learned to do what they were told in 
silence, but they did some hard and vengeful thinking. 
When the work was done they were taken to the foot 
of a huge tree that grew near the centre of the little 
opening where they had made their camp and about 
a rod from the camp-fire, and there their hands and 
feet were securely bound again, and they were thrown 
on the ground as if they were bags of oats, and a war- 
rior was stationed near to keep an eye on them. 

Red Elk now strode to where Mrs. Judson and Mil- 
dred and Mrs. Jimpson, her baby in her arms and her 
other children huddled around her, sat, closely watched, 
under another large tree on the opposite side of the 
camp-fire from where the men lay bound. 

“ Red Elk hungry,’* he said. “ White squaws cook 
heap good white man’s eat,” and he pointed toward 
the fire. 

Mrs. Judson understood at once what the chief 
meant and arose to obey, but Mrs. Jimpson did not 
comprehend his meaning so quickly, besides she had 
her baby in her arms, and sat staring blankly up into 
the brutal face of the chief, hugging the baby closer 
to her bosom. 

“ Ugh ! White papoose no good I ” and reaching 
down Red Elk caught one of the little rounded arms in 
his huge hand, jerked the baby violently from the 

[295] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

mother’s bosom, and threw the helpless little thing on 
the ground. “ Now, go cook,” he commanded. 

In an instant Mrs. Jimpson’s face grew white and 
tense and hard as marble, and her eyes blazed, and, 
springing to her feet, she leaped straight at the face 
of Red Elk, clawing with her bent fingers like a cat. 
Her nails were sharp, and before the big chief had re- 
covered sufficiently from his astonishment at this un- 
dreamt-of onslaught by the despised “ white squaw ” 
to defend himself, they had ploughed half a dozen red 
furrows down his swarthy cheeks, and Mrs. Jimpson, 
with a cry from her mother-heart, had sprung from 
him and caught her baby up again in her arms, and 
stood before the chief, white and panting, but ready 
to defend her baby with her last drop of blood. 

For a brief moment Red Elk stood glowering furi- 
ously at the brave little woman, then with a guttural 
howl of pain and wrath, his hand went swiftly to his 
tomahawk. 

Mildred and her mother screamed, Jud Jimpson 
struggled like a madman to burst his bonds, Mr. Jud- 
son’s and Tom Rawlins’s faces went white as milk, 
and Ray and Arthur both shrank and shivered as if 
the horror of that dread axe was about to fall on their 
own heads. 

Red Elk swung back his arm, his eyes on the wom- 
an’s face, the tomahawk gleaming in his hand, and 
then with a malignant grin he lowered his weapon and 
spoke a few words to a couple of warriors standing a 
short distance behind Mrs. Jimpson. He had suddenly 
thought of a weapon more cruel than his tomahawk. 

The two warriors sprang upon Mrs. Jimpson from 
behind, threw her violently to the ground, wrenched 
[296] 


JRed Elk 

the baby from her arms, and despite her struggles and 
screams, quickly tied her hand and foot. 

Red Elk stooped and picked up the screaming baby 
from the ground, where she had fallen, by one of her 
arms, and held her gloatingly above the helpless 
mother. 

“ White squaw wildcat, with nails like knives,” he 
said, wiping the blood from his face with his free hand. 
“ Red Elk no kill white squaw. White squaw make 
heap good slave. White papoose no good. Red Elk kill 
squalling white papoose,” and still holding the baby 
over the frantic mother, he swung his tomahawk again 
above his head, and paused for a moment to gloat over 
the anguish of the mother. 

As he thus stood, the screaming baby held out- 
stretched in his left hand above the shrieking mother, 
the tomahawk gleaming aloft in his right, the look of 
a malignant fiend on his ugly face, what pen could 
picture the anguish of the helpless father and husband 
or the horror of his wretched friends? 

“ Red Elk no like squalling papoose,” and the fiend 
grinned. “ Red Elk stop squall,” and the muscles on the 
right arm stiffened for the fatal blow; but, before the 
tomahawk could fall, the sharp crack of a rifle came 
from a thicket not ten rods away, instantly followed by 
a volley of shots. 

The shattered tomahawk fell from the startled 
chief’s hand, a dozen of his bravest warriors reeled 
and stumbled and plunged dead and dying to the 
ground, slain by that fatal first volley, and before the 
remaining braves could recover sufficiently from the 
shock of their rudely awakened dream of security to 
seize their discarded weapons, the dreaded war-whoop 

[297] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

of their mortal enemies, the Delawares, rang in their 
ears, and the space between the thicket and the camp 
was alive with swiftly running Delaware warriors. 

At their head bounded their chief, a tall, graceful 
young warrior, lithe and powerful as a panther, a long 
knife gleaming in his right hand, his eyes fixed on the 
giant form of Red Elk, who with knife and tomahawk, 
his only weapons, in his hands, had whirled around and 
stood — a lion at bay. 

The eyes of Red Elk lighted venomously when they 
caught sight of the young chief. 

“ Go to the Happy Hunting Grounds to await with 
your father the coming of Red Elk,” he cried, and 
hurled his tomahawk, but with a movement swift as a 
swallow’s wing the advancing chief avoided the deadly 
weapon and sprang in front of Red Elk. 

“ The Great Spirit has answered my prayer,” he 
cried, pausing and crouching like a panther about to 
spring. “ He has brought me face to face with the 
slayer of my father. Go to him and tell him his son 
has sent him a slave to wait on him when he is weary 
with the chase,” and with the sudden swiftness of the 
leap of an arrow from the bow, he sprang at Red Elk, 
his keen knife glinting in his right hand. 

Red Elk was a famous warrior whose skill and cour- 
age had been tested on many a hard-fought field, where 
his great strength and size had given him a tremendous 
advantage in all physical encounters, and now he met 
the onset of the young chief as a furious old lion would 
meet the leap of a bold panther, grimly confident in 
his superior strength and prowess. 

But whatever the young chief lacked in sheer mus- 
cular strength he more than made up in suppleness and 
[298] 


Red Elk 

agility. Wisely avoiding the grip of those great arms, 
he darted hither and thither around his big antagonist, 
now springing in to strike with the keen knife, now 
leaping back to avoid the return blow, never for an 
instant taking his eyes from the red brutal face, never 
for an instant pausing to rest, tireless and sudden as if 
his sinews were made out of steel springs. 

Around the two struggling men gathered a few of 
the Delaware warriors, but they did not offer to aid 
their young chief, and stood silent, their black eyes 
watching every movement of the two chiefs with the 
keenest interest. 

Suddenly the watchful eyes of the young Delaware 
saw his opportunity, and with a movement so swift 
that the eyes could not follow it, he leaped under the 
upraised arm, struck two swift, terrible blows with his 
knife, and bounded back. 

The knife and tomahawk dropped from Red Elk’s 
hands, his body straightened stiffly, and with the death- 
whoop ringing from his lips, he plunged face down- 
ward on the ground. The knife of the young Delaware 
had pierced his heart. 

The battle was over. It had been a glorious victory 
for the Delawares. They had lost only two warriors, 
while the dead of the Blackfeet covered the ground. 

During these exciting moments our friends had been 
helpless but intensely interested spectators, and now, 
with the whoops of the victors ringing in their ears, 
they wondered what was to be their fate, whether their 
rescuers were enemies or friends. Fortunately, the agony 
of this suspense was of short duration, for, pausing 
only to assure himself that his enemy was dead, the 
young Delaware chief turned and came swiftly toward 

[ 299 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the spot where the men and boys lay bound. He went 
straight to Ray and Arthur, and with swift strokes of 
his knife, cut the bonds from their limbs and helped 
them to their feet. 

“ Do not my brothers. Leaping Beaver and White 
Otter, know their brother. Eagle Feather?” he asked 
of the astounded boys in a low musical voice, all the 
lust of battle gone out of his pleasant face. “ Eagle 
Feather glad ” 

But he could say no more, for Ray and Arthur, with 
a shout, each caught hold of a hand, and with tears in 
their eyes and sobs in their voices, were trying to thank 
him for saving their lives and to tell him how it was 
his war-paint and his war-dress that had prevented 
them from recognising him. 

That was a great moment for the two boys — a great 
moment for all our friends. In the space of a few min- 
utes they had passed from the agony of despair to the 
joys of a safe deliverance, and their heroic rescuer was 
the young Delaware chief, Eagle Feather, their friend 
and brother ! 

“ I reckon you boys certainly did cast your bread 
upon the waters when you jumped into the Mississippi 
and pulled out that young Delaware Indian, and weVe 
all got it back to-day a thousand fold,” and Mr. Jud- 
son turned with tears in his eyes to Eagle Feather, who 
stood smiling at the crowd of white and happy faces 
surrounding him. “ Well, IVe ’most always found it 
pays in the long run to help anybody when you can, 
irrespective of race, colour, or previous conditions of 
servitude,” and with this bit of homely but wise phil- 
osophy, Mr. Judson gripped Eagle Feather’s hand and 
shook it with the warmth of a brother. 

[300] 


Red Elk 

The young chieftain proved himself as cautious a 
leader as he was brave, for he at once, although it was 
now nearing night, ordered the oxen yoked to the wag- 
gons and everything got In readiness to Immediately 
leave this delightful little valley, that again was look- 
ing as if It had never heard the sound of an Indian 
war-whoop nor witnessed the shedding of human blood. 
He had only twenty-five warriors with him, and evi- 
dently the larger body of Blackfeet were expected to 
rendezvous in this valley and might come galloping In 
at almost any moment. 

Accordingly, the oxen were quickly yoked to the 
waggons, and, guarded and guided by Eagle Feather 
and his warriors, our friends set out to find their way 
back to the distant California trail. 


[301 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 


ON THE BACKBONE OF THE CONTINENT 
TTLE damage had been done by the Indians 



to the outfit, and not one of our white friends 


^ ^ had been seriously hurt, while their enemies 
had been most severely punished; consequently it was a 
very joyous and triumphant company, notwithstanding 
their extreme fatigue, that passed out of the little val- 
ley they had entered but a few short hours before with 
such gloomy apprehensions. Ray and Arthur, to their 
irrepressible joy, again sat on the backs of Getthere 
and Black Duke, but Mildred remained in the waggon 
with her mother, while Mr. Judson, Tom Rawlins, 
and Jud Jimpson wielded their ox-whips and urged the 
beasts over the rough road as fast as possible, for they 
wished to be far from the little valley before the dark- 
ness of night overtook them. Eagle Feather and his 
warriors led the way, and like a cautious general the 
chief threw out scouts in front and on the flanks, to 
prevent their being taken by surprise or falling into an 
ambuscade. 

They did not camp that night until it was so dark 
that it was impossible to see to go farther, and then 
they dared build no fires for fear the Blackfeet might 
see them, and were compelled to eat a cold supper in 
the darkness. The watchful eyes of Eagle Feather and 


[ 302 ] 


On the Backbone of the Continent 

his warriors guarded the camp, and our friends slept 
the sleep of complete mental and physical exhaustion. 

“ My, but wasn’t Eagle Feather great when he was 
fighting with Red Elk? ” were Ray’s last words as he 
rolled himself up in his blanket and lay down by the 
side of Arthur. 

“ Ye-s. He’s the brav-e-s-t man I e-v-e-r s-a-w,” and 
both tired boys were sound asleep. 

It was not until near the middle of the afternoon of 
the next day that our party struck the emigrant trail, 
where they were fortunate enough to fall in with Cap- 
tain Duncan in command of a company of Mounted 
Rifles from Fort Laramie, who had been sent out after 
this same band of Blackfeet that had attacked and cap- 
tured the Judson party. 

Captain Duncan and his soldiers were greatly elated 
over the death of Red Elk, who was one of the most 
cruel and dreaded of the Blackfeet chiefs, and their 
praise of the part Eagle Feather and his warriors had 
played was hearty and freely expressed. 

From Captain Duncan Mr. Judson learned that a 
large company of emigrants were encamped at Inde- 
pendence Rock, one of the most famous landmarks of 
that country, ten miles farther along the trail, and it 
was determined to push on and endeavour to reach their 
encampment that night. 

Accordingly, hasty farewells were said to Captain 
Duncan and his men, who were anxious to be off on 
the trail of the main party of Blackfeet, who had 
attacked the emigrant company on the afternoon of 
the day before and had been driven off, and who were 
now, doubtless, making for the little valley to meet 
Red Elk and his prisoners; and once more the worn 

[303] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

waggons of our friends were creaking their weary way 
over the long trail to California. 

Eagle Feather and his warriors rode with the Judson 
party to Independence Rock, where they found a com- 
pany of some two hundred emigrants encamped, resting 
their nearly worn-out animals for a couple of days. 
They reached the big camp about nine o’clock at night, 
and were most heartily welcomed, especially after the 
emigrants learned of the desperate battle they had had 
with Red Elk and his warriors, and how they had been 
rescued and guarded by the heroic young Delaware 
chief. Eagle Feather, and his braves. 

The next morning a great feast was given the In- 
dians, at which Eagle Feather was the guest of honour, 
and to which every emigrant in the company gladly 
contributed of his best, for all felt that Indians so 
brave and friendly to the whites and who had shown 
their bravery and friendliness in such an effective man- 
ner, should not be allowed to go unrewarded, or per- 
mitted for a moment to doubt how highly such services 
were valued by their white brothers. 

Mr. Judson urged Eagle Feather to go along with 
them, at least as far as the South Pass, but Eagle 
Feather shook his head. 

“ No,” he said, “ Eagle Feather’s mission is ended. 
He has avenged the death of his father. He must now 
return to the lodges of his people, who dwell far to 
the south, near the beginning of the long trail. But the 
kindness of his white brothers is warm in his heart, in 
the hearts of his warriors. Eagle Feather’s memory is 
long. He will never forget his white brothers. He will 
tell his people of their kindness, and their memories 
will be kept green in the hearts of the Delawares.” 

[304] 


On the Backbone of the Continent 

The young chief and his warriors left the encamp- 
ment that day a little after noon, bearing with them 
many presents from their white brothers, and the best 
wishes of all. 

“ I wish all Indians were like Eagle Feather,” Mil- 
dred said with a sigh, as she stood beside Ray and 
Arthur, watching the Delawares riding away to the 
southward. “ Then we wouldn’t have anything more to 
fear from them. I don’t think I can ever forget that 
wicked Red Elk,” and she shuddered at the recollection 
of the horrors his name recalled. 

“Eagle Feather is as good as any white man that ever 
lived,” Arthur declared stoutly. “ And he saved the 
lives of every one of us. I wish that big brute they called 
Grizzly Ike, who kicked him overboard, had been with 
us. I fancy he would have changed his opinion some 
about there being no good Indians except dead Indians, 
especially if he had seen that fight between Eagle 
Feather and the giant, Red Elk. My, but isn’t Eagle 
Feather a fighter? ” 

“ And to think,” Ray said, his face sobering, “ if we 
had not jumped into the Mississippi and saved Eagle 
Feather from drowning, he wouldn’t have been here 
to have saved us. It’s wonderful how things do happen 
sometimes! I shall never forget Eagle Feather.” 

By this time the little body of Indian warriors had 
reached the summit of a low ridge of hills half a mile 
away, and here they paused for a moment to wave a 
last farewell to their white brothers before galloping 
down the opposite side. 

“ Good-bye, brave Eagle Feather! ” Mildred cried, 
waving her handkerchief, the tears in her eyes, and, as 
if in answer to her words, they saw Eagle Feather, his 

[305] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

form clearly outlined as he sat on his horse on the 
summit of the ridge, whirl his pony about, wave his 
hands in an Indian farewell and benediction, and, 
turning, gallop over the brow of the hill and vanish 
from sight. 

The company remained in camp at Independence Rock 
until the next morning, giving our young friends ample 
time to examine this famous landmark, concerning 
which they had heard so much while on the trail that 
the rock seemed almost like an old friend; and a very 
curious and interesting formation they found the huge, 
rounded mass of granite that rose something over a 
hundred feet above the surrounding country and cov- 
ered more than an acre of ground. The rock stood 
alone, like some giant sentinel sent out from the nearby 
mountains to guard their approaches. The smooth sur- 
face of the rock, to a height of ten or more feet, was 
covered with the names of emigrants and others who 
had journeyed over the trail, put on with paint or tar 
or cut in the rock itself. 

Ray and Arthur and Mildred were greatly inter- 
ested in deciphering these names, and were delighted 
whenever they found the name of some emigrant they 
had known, and of course the boys had to get a ham- 
mer and chisel and cut their own names and that of 
Mildred deep in the hard rock. 

“ Oh, see here! ” and Mildred, who had wandered 
a little distance away while the boys were doing the 
chiselling, pointed to the rock in front of her. “ Some- 
body has cut a cross deep in the rock and covered it 
over with black paint.” 

“ The very thing that IVe been looking all over 
for! ” exclaimed a young man, one of another party 
[306] 


On the Backbone of the Continent 

of emigrants who were examining the rock, hurrying 
up to where Mildred stood, a book in his hand. “ That 
cross,” and the young man with the book turned to the 
little group that had quickly surrounded him, “ was 
cut in the rock by that intrepid explorer, John C. Fre- 
mont, seven years ago, when he passed this rock on his 
first exploring expedition across the Rocky Mountains. 
If you wish, I will read from his journal what he writes 
about carving the cross on this rock,” and the young 
man opened his book. 

“ Was that our great Western explorer. Colonel 
Fremont, that weVe all heard and read so much 
about? ” Arthur, who had hurried up with Ray, asked 
eagerly. “ The one who had Kit Carson for his 
guide? ” 

“ The very same,” avouched the young man. “ Now, 
listen, this is what he writes about this very cross,” and 
lifting the book he read; 


“Yesterday evening we reached our encampment at Rock Independ- 
ence, where I took some astronomical observations. Here, not un- 
mindful of the custom of early travellers and explorers in our country, 
I engraved on that rock of the Far West a symbol of the Christian 
faith. Among the thickly inscribed names, I made on the hard 
granite the impression of a large cross, which I covered with a black 
preparation of India-rubber, well calculated to resist the influence of 
wind and rain. It stands amidst the names of many who have long 
since found their way to the grave, and for whom the huge rock is a 
giant tombstone.’* 

“ And,” continued the young man, closing his book, 
“ by an odd coincidence, this day happens to be the 
very day of the month, August 23 d, on which this 

[ 307 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

cross was cut in this rock by Colonel Fremont, just 
seven years ago.” 

“ Hurrah for Colonel Fremont, the man who helped 
to win California and its gold mines for us, and made 
this journey possible!” shouted a tall emigrant who 
had come up in time to listen to the reading from the 
book, and who was evidently an enthusiastic admirer 
of Colonel Fremont. “ Three cheers for the great ex- 
plorer! ” and he pulled off his hat and waved it around 
his head and shouted his cheers lustily, joined by all 
who were within hearing of his voice. 

Early the next morning the company broke camp at 
Independence Rock. 

There were now over two hundred emigrants — men, 
women, and children — in the company, fifty-three wag- 
gons (Ray and Arthur both counted them) of various 
sizes and shapes, and something like four hundred head 
of oxen, mules, horses, and cows. All these made an 
extremely odd and interesting procession as they slowly 
wound their way, one waggon behind another, and 
drawn sometimes by four or five yokes of oxen or mule 
teams, along that lonely trail through the wilderness of 
plains and mountains. 

‘‘ I declare,” Mildred exclaimed, as she sat on 
Beauty a little to one side of the trail, her eyes on 
the long train of waggons and animals and men, nearly 
a mile in length, moving slowly across the level floor 
of the desolate plain, “ if it doesn’t make me think of 
a circus parade, only there are no elephants and no 
bands playing and no people looking.” 

“ Looks more to me like a monster white worm 
crawling over* the plain,” Ray laughed. “But just see 
there ! ” and he pointed toward the end of the train. 
[ 308 ] 


On the Backbone of the Continent 

“ If there aren’t our old friends, The Mourners, 
coffin and all, and looking solemner and thinner than 
ever.” 

“Well, I’m glad they haven’t had to use their cof- 
fin yet,” Mildred said. “ But I am sorry they happen 
to be in this company with us. I wish somebody would 
paint that old coffin off their waggon cover. Makes me 
shiver just to look at it.” 

“ Come, trot along, children,” called a rough but not 
unkindly voice. “ You know the orders are that every 
one must keep with his own squad while on the march, 
and you are already behind yours.” 

“ All right,” Ray answered. “We are new to the 
company, and didn’t know there was such a rule, but 
we’ll take your word for it,” and he struck Getthere 
a light blow with his whip, and, followed by Arthur 
and Mildred, galloped up to where the three waggons 
of the Judson party had their place in the long line. 

This large company, as was necessary where so many 
emigrants joined together, was under strict military dis- 
cipline, and had been officered and organised before 
the Judson party joined them, consequently all they 
had to do was to fall in line and obey orders. A retired 
army officer, Charles Goodwin, had been elected cap- 
tain, and under him were four lieutenants, each in com- 
mand of fifty emigrants, and these fifties were again 
subdivided into squads of ten each, with a corporal in 
command, who was held responsible by his lieutenant 
for the good behaviour and order of his squad. The 
Judson party, coming in after the organisation had 
been perfected, was formed into a separate squad. Mr. 
Judson was appointed corporal of the squad, and the 
three waggons were given a place near the centre of 

[309] 


V 


The Boy Forty -Nirters 

the waggon-train. Scouts always rode a quarter of a 
mile or more in advance of the waggons to avoid any 
danger of their running into an Indian ambush. When 
night came the waggons were drawn up in a circle, 
corralled, as it was called, and chained together, leav- 
ing but one small opening through which all the animals 
were driven after they had had their feed of grass, 
and closely guarded during the darkness of the night. 
This precaution rendered the Indian’s favourite mode 
of horse and cattle stealing — stampeding — impossible, 
and made a strong breastwork behind which to fight 
if the emigrants were attacked. The camp-fires were 
built just outside the circle of waggons, and the entire 
encampment was surrounded by a line of pickets. 

This will give you a very good idea of the methods 
employed by the large waggon-trains to protect them- 
selves from the Indians while crossing the plains, and 
will show you how difficult it would be for even a large 
body of Indians, trained and armed as the American 
savages of those days were, to work serious harm to so 
large and carefully guarded a company of emigrants 
as the one of which our friends now found themselves 
a part. 

“ Isn’t it about time we came to the Devil’s Gate? ” 
Arthur asked, as the children pulled up their ponies 
by the side of Jud Jimpson, who was striding con- 
tentedly along by the side of his oxen. “ You know you 
said it was only about five miles from Independence 
Rock, and it seems to me as if we had gone twice that 
distance already, and I’m afraid we will all melt and 
run away if we don’t strike it soon,” and he wiped the 
streaming perspiration from his hot face. 

“ Well, you’ll have tew do your meltin’ some lively 

[310] 


On the Backbone of the Continent 

if you git it all done afore we git tew th’ Devil’s Gate,” 
Jud laughed, “ for that cleft in them hills over yonder 
is his infernal majesty’s gateway. Though why it’s 
called th’ Devil’s Gate is more’n I know, seein’ it’s th’ 
coolest spot in all this sun-baked country. I reckon 
you’re not th’ only one that is a-longin’ for a whiff of 
its cool air. ’Twill be like goin’ down intew a great, 
cool cellar. An’ it’s grander than any picter you ever 
seed. God was thinkin’ big thoughts when He made 
that river flow through them hills. There goes th’ head- 
waggln now I ” and Jud pointed with his ox-whip to 
where the first of the long train of waggons had made 
a turn to the right and was just disappearing around a 
pile of rocks. 

A quarter of an hour later their own waggons made 
the turn, and before their eyes was the Devil’s Gate. 

“ Oh! ” and Mildred drew in a long breath and a 
look of awe came into her face. “ It looks just as if 
some great giant had taken a huge axe and chopped a 
chunk right out of the hard rocks of the hill to make a 
place for the river to run through. And how the water 
foams and races over the rocks I It is grand I ” 

And, indeed, it was a grand sight that Mildred and 
our friends were looking upon. Through a narrow 
gorge cut, as if with a great axe, as Mildred had said, 
through the solid rock of the hill to a depth of from 
three to four hundred feet, brawled the waters of the 
Sweetwater River, flecked with foam and throwing 
its spray high in the air as it rushed tumultuously over 
the rocks that obstructed its free passage. On either 
side the high walls of rock rose almost perpendicularly 
to a height in places of over four hundred feet, effect- 
ually shutting out the direct rays and heat of the sun, 

[311 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and making a delightfully cool and refreshing retreat 
from the scorching heat of the dry, dusty plains. 

The gorge was some two hundred yards in length, 
and the long train of waggons passed very slowly 
through it, so that man and beast might enjoy as much 
as possible of its refreshing coolness. 

When the novelty of travelling with so large a com- 
pany of emigrants began to wear off, as it did after the 
first few days of following the trail, as it wound its 
way up the picturesque valley of the Sweetwater after 
leaving the Devil’s Gate, Ray and Arthur and Mildred 
began to weary of the restraints of the discipline to 
which all the members of the company were subjected, 
and to long for the freedom that had been theirs while 
they were travelling by themselves. The three men 
were not troubled in the least by the strictness of the 
discipline, but another matter gave them even more 
serious concern, and that was the slow rate at which 
this large company was compelled to move. A chain 
is no stronger than its weakest link, and a waggon- 
train can be no speedier than its slowest team, and 
among so many there were a few whose oxen or horses 
were so nearly worn-out that the whole waggon-train 
was delayed in order that they might keep with the 
company. Then the oxen of the Judson party, owing 
to the care with which they had been handled and the 
wisdom our friends had showed in not overloading 
their waggons or overworking their animals at the 
start, were still in splendid condition and capable of 
easily making five or ten miles more a day than the 
company could make when doing its best, and it was 
getting late in the season, and it was of the utmost 
importance that they should cross the dreaded Sierra 
[312 ] 


On the Backbone of the Continent 

Nevada Mountains before the snows of winter began 
to fall. Consequently the three men were even more dis- 
satisfied with the company method of travelling than 
were the three children, and it was determined to push 
on ahead for themselves as soon as South Pass was 
reached, when all immediate danger from the Indians 
would be past. 

They were now in the land of the mountains, jour- 
neying constantly upward toward the summit of the 
Great Divide that separates the waters of the rivers 
flowing into the Atlantic from the waters of the rivers 
flowing into the Pacific Ocean. They were nearing the 
backbone of the American continent. The scenery was 
always picturesque, and sometimes grand beyond the 
description of words. In whatever direction they looked 
the high peaks of lofty mountains shot up above the 
distant horizon, some of them capped with the snows 
of eternal winter. They were also in the land of many 
natural wonders. In some places warm springs of 
water bubbled up from the ground, in others the water 
was ice-cold. Soda springs were frequent, and some- 
times the very ground itself was covered with a crust 
of the white carbonate of soda, and the banks of the 
rivers were white with it. Many of the emigrants used 
this natural saleratus in mixing their bread, even pre- 
ferring it to that bought at the store, but Mrs. Judson, 
after her first trial, would have no more to do with 
it, declaring that it gave the bread a bitter taste. At 
one place they came to what appeared from a distance 
to be a small lake or pond, frozen over and covered 
with a light fall of drifted snow. Mildred’s were the 
first eyes of our party to catch sight of this wonder, 
for the day was very warm. 

[313 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Look ! Look there I ” she cried in astonishment, 
pointing to the apparently frozen pond. “ There’s a 
lake, and it’s frozen and covered with snow, with the 
sun pouring down on it hot enough to melt lead ! ” 

“ Great Scott! ” Arthur exclaimed excitedly. “ Come 
on. Let’s have a slide. Think of going sliding on the 
ice and snow on a hot day like this. I wonder why that 
ice and snow don’t melt? ” and he stared wonderingly 
at the mystifying little pond glistening in the bright 
sunlight. 

“ Dat am sartainly a mighty good sight fo’ dis nig- 
gah’s eyes,” declared Scoot, down whose black face 
the perspiration was running in streams. “ I reckon 
Gawd A’mighty done put it dar jes’ fo’ to gib dis 
niggah a coolin’-off spot. I’s gwine to hab a slide on 
dat ice, an’ a roll in dat snow, an’ den I’s gwine to sot 
dar right on top ob dat snow an’ jes’ freeze dis heat 
right out ob me,” and without waiting for anybody’s 
permission, he started for the pond, now only a few rods 
away, the thick soles of his shoes clattering over the 
rocks as he ran. 

Ray and Arthur and Mildred were about to run 
after him, when they caught sight of Jud Jimpson’s 
twinkling eyes, and paused to await the result of Scoot’s 
experience. 

Scoot never hesitated an instant, but with a rush he 
struck the pond, both sturdy feet braced for the slide — 
and went rolling and tumbling in a white cloud of 
saleratus. Spluttering and blowing saleratus out of his 
mouth and nose, and clawing the bitter stuff frantically 
from his eyes and ears, Scoot jumped to his feet, and 
with yells of terror raced back to the waggons, glancing 
with frightened eyes over his shoulder at the bewitched 

[314] 


On the Backbone of the Continent 

pond of ice, which, after all, was only a bed of car- 
bonate of soda left by the evaporation of water that 
had held it in solution. 

They frequently saw large bands of Indians watch- 
ing them curiously from the summits of distant hills, 
and now and then a few ventured to approach, but 
Captain Goodwin refused to allow an Indian for any 
purpose inside the lines, and they had no more trouble 
from them except that a couple of horses were stolen one 
night by these cunning thieves, in spite of the watchful 
eyes of the guards. 

For many days now the trail had been gradually 
ascending the enormous ridge that forms the Rocky 
Mountains, the backbone of the continent, so grad- 
ually that the ascent had been hardly noticed, and it 
seemed scarcely possible to Ray and Arthur that they 
were actually passing over the mighty Rocky Moun- 
tains. The nights became very cold and the air very 
dry, and all the emigrants had a great deal of trouble 
with their waggons, caused by the shrinkage of the 
woodwork in the dry atmosphere of the high altitude 
through which they were now travelling, and much 
time was lost resetting the tires of waggon-wheels that 
were constantly working loose. 

At last the eyes of our weary travellers were glad- 
dened by a sight of the famous South Pass, through 
which they were to make the actual crossing over the 
mountains. When first seen, at a distance of fifty or 
more miles, the Pass looked like a narrow notch cut 
in the mountains and hardly wide enough to allow a 
team to pass through, but as they slowly drew nearer 
and nearer, the Pass gradually widened out until it 
opened up into a beautiful grass-covered prairie almost 

[315 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

as level as a floor. And here, on the very top of the 
continent, the long train of waggons were corralled 
one night, and the camp pitched for a two-days’ stop, 
to give their tired animals a rest before beginning the 
descent of the Pacific slope, and to celebrate their arri- 
val at this famous spot, that all had looked forward 
to as the beginning of the end of their long journey. 
They were now, indeed, on the last half of the trail, 
but, alas, the hardest half I 


[316] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 


TOM pike’s pocket-knife 

T he next morning the Judson party, after con- 
sultation with Captain Goodwin, determined 
to push on, since their oxen really needed no 
rest, and accordingly, about nine o’clock in the fore- 
noon, they bade adieu to the many new friends they had 
made in the company, and began the long journey 
down the western slope of the Rockies toward the 
Pacific. 

Ray and Arthur and Mildred had long looked for- 
ward to this crossing of the Rocky Mountains, those 
towering masses of great rocks, within whose unex- 
plored depths lurked what mysteries and unknown 
dangers! From their earliest childhood they had heard 
and read tales of these mountains, of their size and 
grandeur, of their lofty snow-capped peaks and deep, 
sunless canyons, of their savage inhabitants, the treach- 
erous Indian, the terrible grizzly, and the lithe moun- 
tain-lion; and now they were in the very midst of this 
marvellous region of mystery and peril, and their hearts 
thrilled and their eyes sparkled as they looked around 
and saw the rugged peaks of towering mountains, the 
clefts of great canyons, and the mountain streams, 
winding like threads of silver down the distant western 
slopes. 

[317] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ It makes me feel solemn, as — as if I were in a great 
church,” Mildred said, as her eyes roamed over the 
glorious landscape of mountains and valleys and rivers. 
“ And I guess I am in a church — God’s great church,” 
she added reverently. 

“ I feel as small as a mite on the back of an ele- 
phant,” Arthur declared. “ I didn’t know there were 
such big things in the world — Hello ! I wonder what 
Jud is stopping for? See, he’s beckoning to us. Come 
on,” and striking his spurs into Black Duke’s sides, he 
galloped to where Jud Jimpson was standing by the 
side of his oxen, a broad grin on his face. 

“ I reckon here’s somethin’ that’ll interest you kids,” 
he said when the children reached his side, pointing to 
a spring rising from a low, boggy depression near a 
pile of rocks. The ground immediately in front of the 
spring was quite flat, and the water had spread over 
considerable space, forming a marshy pool. From this 
pool flowed two small streams, one toward the east 
and the other toward the west. 

“ The water in this stream,” continued Jud Jimpson, 
indicating the rivulet flowing eastward, “ runs down 
th’ east side of th’ mountains, an’ intew th’ Sweetwater, 
an’ down th’ Platte, an’ intew th’ Missouri, an’ from 
th’ Missouri intew th’ Mississippi, an’ then on down 
th’ Mississippi tew th’ Gulf of Mexico an’ th’ Atlantic 
Ocean, somethin’ over three thousand miles accordin’ 
tew my reckonin’. An’ this here water,” and he pointed 
to the other stream, “ goes a-creepin’ down th’ west 
side of th’ mountains intew th’ Green River, an’ on 
down th’ Green River intew th’ Lord only knows what 
streams till it brings up in th’ Pacific Ocean. Now,” 
and something like awe crept into Jud Jimpson’s voice, 

[318] 


Tom Pike's Pocket-Knife 

“ I count it mighty curious that both these streams 
feed from th’ same spring, ’way up here on top of 
th’ Rockies, yit th’ waters of one goes tew th’ Atlantic 
an’ t’other tew th’ Pacific Ocean, an’ a hull continent 
atween ’em ! ” 

“ I know, I’ve heard of this spring! ” cried Mildred, 
jumping off her pony, followed by Ray and Arthur. 
“ And I’m going to get a pail and fill it with water 
that’s started for the Pacific Ocean and pour it into 
the Atlantic stream, just so that I can say forever after- 
ward that I’ve emptied a pailful of water from the 
Pacific Ocean into the Atlantic Ocean, and I don’t think 
there are many little girls in all the world that can say 
that! ” and her cheeks dimpled and her eyes sparkled 
with excitement as she ran to their waggon to get the 
pail and her mother, so that she might have an ever- 
present witness to bear testimony to the truthfulness 
of her remarkable statement. 

“ And I’m going to dump a pail of the Atlantic 
water into the Pacific, so there won’t be any robbery,” 
laughed Ray, also starting for the waggon to get one 
of the horse-pails. 

In a few minutes Mildred and her mother and Ray 
were back to the spring with their pails, and along 
with them came the rest of the party, even to Mrs. 
Jimpson and her baby, to witness the really wonderful 
performance of pouring the waters of the Pacific into 
the Atlantic Ocean, and to see with their own eyes a 
spring that emptied into two oceans. 

Mildred filled her pail from the water flowing to 
the Pacific, while Ray at the same moment dipped his 
pail into the water going to the Atlantic, and thus, 
there on the top of the Rockies, were the destinies of 

[319] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

two pails full of water changed from one ocean to an- 
other ocean. 

“ Now, I reckon, if water could talk,” Mr. Judson 
philosophised as they stood watching the two little 
rivulets gurgling their ways down the mountain sides 
toward their widely separated destinies, “ the water 
that was in them two pails would have great stories 
to tell when it gets to the ocean. It’s a mighty curious 
spring, and a mighty curious thing that you’ve done. 
Dimples. But this won’t get us to California. Let’s be 
moving,” and he hurried back to his waggon. 

“Now we’re on the down-grade ! ” shouted Arthur 
as he sprang to the back of Black Duke. “ We’re over 
the top of the Rockies, hurrah I I can almost smell the 
Pacific. We are moving with the current,” and he 
glanced toward the little stream singing its way west- 
ward along the side of the trail. “ Why, we could al- 
most slide right into California from here ! ” 

“ Then let’s slide,” and Jud Jimpson cracked his 
long ox-whip, and the creaking waggons began their 
descent down the Pacific slope. 

The waggons had now crept almost up to the snow 
line, and Ray and Arthur had frequently cast longing 
glances toward the cool whiteness that sometimes 
seemed but a few feet above them, and when, toward 
the middle of the afternoon they came to a place where 
the snow came down in the shade of a great bluff to 
within a few rods of the trail, the sight was too much 
for their boyish enthusiasm, and with a shout to Mil- 
dred and Scoot and Sally Jimpson to come up and have 
a snow-fight, they made a rush for the snow-bank. 

Mildred and Sally followed promptly, but Scoot, 
mindful of his recent experience in the saleratus bed, 
[320] 


Tom Pikers Pocket-Knife 

declined to go, declaring: “ I done want nothin’ mo’ to 
do wid dis har mount’in snow. No ’spectable Kentuck 
niggah’s gwine to touch dat dar kind oh snow mo’n 
once,” and he sulked by the side of the waggons, roll- 
ing his eyes curiously toward the children, as if expect- 
ing the snow to be suddenly transformed into saleratus, 
as he fancied the snow on the pond had been. 

“Great, isn’t it?” cried Arthur, seizing a handful 
of the snow the moment he reached the bank and dash- 
ing it into Mildred’s face. 

“ Splendid! ” retorted Mildred, giving him so sud- 
den and vigorous a push that down he went headlong 
in the feathery whiteness. 

“ Bury him I Bury him I ” yelled Sally, and then both 
girls began piling snow upon Arthur as he struggled to 
his feet, so fast that in a moment he looked more like 
an animated snowball than he did like a human being. 

Then began a wild romp up and down the snow- 
bank, and the air was filled with flying snow and merry 
shouts and happy laughter. 

In the midst of all this excitement Ray suddenly 
stopped and stared for a moment at a pile of rocks, 
lying half a mile or more away and considerably lower 
than the spot where he now stood, but within sight of 
the trail. 

“Come here. Art, girls!” he called excitedly. 
“ Don’t that look like the body of a man lying behind 
those rocks, there by the side of that big middle rock? ” 

“ It is, it surely is a man ! He — he must be dead ! ” 
and Mildred’s face whitened. “ Come, let’s hurry and 
tell papa,” and she started on the run for the waggons, 
that during all this time had been moving along the 
trail, with Sally and the boys trailing after her. 

[321 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Jud Jimpson and Tom Rawlins at once shouldered 
their rifles and started out to investigate the pile of 
rocks, which lay some twenty rods to one side and a 
little above the trail. They found no living or dead 
man there, but both men smelt the odour of recently 
smoked tobacco lingering in the air about the big rock 
that Ray had indicated as the place where he had seen 
the body, and here the sharp eyes of Jud Jimpson 
found a well-worn pocket-knife lying in a little crevice 
by the side of the rock. 

“ Dat am Massah Tom Pike’s knife fo’ sho’,” Scoot 
declared the moment he saw the knife. “ I dis’member 
him per’zackly, ’cose I got er lickin’ fo’ brakin’ de 
small blade when I done cleaned Massah Tom Pike’s 
boots.” 

“ Well, I thought we’d shook them scoundrels for 
good! ” Mr. Judson exclaimed wrathfully. “And here 
we find them still dodging our trail in the very heart 
of the Rockies,” and his face clouded. “ I’m in favour 
of stopping right here and running them down, and 
finding out once for all just what this continual dodg- 
ing of our steps and watching behind rocks and shoot- 
ing from ambush means,” and Mr. Judson’s lips came 
together tightly. “ What do you say to going into 
camp now and trying to locate them rascals? ” and he 
turned inquiringly to Tom Rawlins and Jud Jimpson. 

“ I say, yes,” Tom Rawlins answered decisively. 
“We’ve had enough of this dodging and skulking 
business. This ain’t no country to have a lot of cowards 
on your track trying to get a pot-shot at you from be- 
hind every rock.” 

“ I’m with you,” Jud Jimpson agreed. “ But ’twill 
be some like tryin’ tew find a needle in a straw-pile tew 
[322] 


Tom Pike's Pocket-Knife 

locate them sneaks in these mountains, where even an 
Indian couldn’t follow a trail an’ an elephant could 
find plenty of hiding-places.” 

Accordingly, the camp was made on a little plot of 
level ground, and the three men, after cautioning Ray 
and Arthur to keep their rifles in their hands and their 
eyes wide open until their return, started out to see if 
they could find the camp of the Sinful Four, for they 
were confident that if one was near the other three 
would not be far away. But their search was vain. Not 
another trace of the men could they find before the 
darkness of night compelled them to return, and in the 
morning all agreed that it would be useless to continue 
the search longer, since the men had had the whole 
night in which to make good their escape, for it was 
evident they did not wish a visit from our friends, 
and had decamped at the first warning that they had 
been discovered. 

The trail down the western slope of the Rocky 
Mountains ran through a wild and picturesque but bar- 
ren region of rocks and canyons, with the white peaks 
of snow-capped mountains towering always above them 
somewhere in the distance. There was little grass and 
less game. Even the skill of Jud Jimpson succeeded in 
killing only a jack-rabbit or two and an occasional 
sage-hen during the entire journey from the South Pass 
to Fort Bridger, and our friends were compelled to 
return again to an almost exclusive diet of “ hog-meat,” 
as Ray disgustedly called the fried bacon and bread, 
with a small allowance of potatoes, and now and then 
a dish of beans, and one cup of good strong coffee to 
each meal. This was not high living, but it was a great 
deal better than what the majority of the emigrants 

[323] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

were now forced to subsist on. Nearly everybody had 
counted on finding plenty of game to supply them with 
meat, and consequently, when the game could not be 
found, they were forced to live on whatever they had 
brought with them in their waggons or packed on the 
backs of horses and mules, and this in many instances 
was little more than flour and beans. 

They were now travelling through the territory of 
the friendly Snake Indians, where it was not necessary 
for the emigrants to move in large companies in order 
to protect themselves, and they again scattered out into 
a long straggling line of white-topped waggons and 
travel-worn men and beasts. Dead oxen and mules and 
horses were still frequently seen along the trail, and 
now and then pieces of furniture and various other 
things, and sometimes even an abandoned waggon, but 
there was no more food left by the trail side, and all 
the emigrants began to have a gaunt hungry look, and 
many of the animals were so lame they could hardly 
walk or so weak and worn with their long pull that 
they could barely drag the waggons behind them or 
support the packs on their backs. A few of the emi- 
grants had even been obliged to abandon both their 
waggons and animals, and were bravely tramping along 
with their scanty supplies strapped on their backs. 

The Judson party pushed on through this barren ter- 
ritory as speedily as possible, passing hundreds of less 
fortunate emigrants, many of whom were the very men 
who, at the beginning of the long trail, had so jauntily 
passed our friends and had tauntingly promised to tell 
the folks in California that they were coming. 

“ Now,” Mr. Judson remarked one day to Ray and 
Arthur, when they had overtaken and had passed a 

[324] 


Tom Pikers Pocket-Knife 

particularly unfortunate company that had lost nearly 
all their aramals and had been forced to abandon their 
waggons and pack what little they had left on the 
backs of three gaunt mules, and whom the boys well 
remembered as having passed them when a few days 
out from Independence at a rattling pace, “ there’s a 
living example of the old saying, ‘ the more haste the 
less speed,’ and of the wisdom of using your thinkers a 
little bit before starting on such a journey as this. If 
them fellows had used horse-sense at the start, and 
had not overloaded or overdriven their animals, they 
would have been just as far along on the trail to-day, 
with all their animals in good shape and fit to make 
the trip clear through to the gold mines. But now, I 
reckon, if they ever see California ’twill only be by God’s 
mercy. Well, I suppose when a fellow insists on mak- 
ing his own bed it is no more than right that he should 
sleep in it. Them’s the same fellows that Jud and I 
tried for more than an hour away back near Independ- 
ence to convince that they’d better take it easy until 
their animals got broke in, and got laughed at for our 
pains. Well, I reckon they are not doing any laughing 
at us now. It don’t pay to know too much about a 
thing you know too little about,” and with this sage, 
if somewhat contradictory, bit of philosophy, Mr. Jud- 
son gave his attention to his oxen, while Ray and Ar- 
thur recalled humbly certain comments they had made 
at the beginning of the journey, and agreed with Mr. 
Judson that it didn’t pay “ to know too much about a 
think you know too little about.” 

A careful lookout was kept for signs of the Sinful 
Four, as Mr. Judson usually called Tom Pike and his 
companions, but not a thing was seen nor heard of them 

[325 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

until the day before they reached Fort Bridger, -when 
a party of emigrants they passed on the trail told them 
that four men in a light spring waggon, drawn by a 
pair of big gaunt mules, had driven by some three 
hours earlier in the day, leading a saddle horse behind 
the waggon, and that the men had stopped to inquire 
if an outfit with a red waggon drawn by three yokes 
of red oxen driven by a great bull-necked man had 
gone by yet. 

“ And as that description seems to fit your party 
some snug,” and their informant glanced toward Big 
Tom Rawlins and his red waggon and red oxen, “ I 
calculates that you are the party meant, and that you 
will find your friends in camp restin’ up a bit when you 
reach Fort Bridger. The big mules looked pretty nigh 
tuckered when they passed us.” 

“ I hope we will,” Mr. Judson said so earnestly that 
the man glanced quickly at him. 

“ Nothing wrong, I hope? ” he asked. 

“ Not to talk about,” Mr. Judson answered some 
shortly. “ But if they are the four men we think they 
are, we’re mighty anxious to have an interview witlx 
them. Thank you kindly for your information,” and 
the Judson party drove on. 

Evidently the Sinful Four had abandoned or sold 
their oxen and waggon, and were now depending on 
the mules alone, for our friends felt sure that the men 
in the light spring waggon who had inquired after 
them were none other than Tom Pike and his trio of 
scoundrels. 

Fort Bridger was reached a little after sundown the 
next day, the seventh after leaving the South Pass. 
The fort was situated on a large island in Black’s Fork, 
[326] 


I Tom Pike's Pocket-Knife 

a tributary of the Green River, and our friends pitched 
their camp on the bank of this stream half a mile be- 
low the fort, too wearied after an unusually long and 
hard day’s travel to care to visit the post that night. 
They intended to remain here for a couple of days to 
rest their animals and do some needed repairing to the 
waggons, and so would have ample time to visit the 
fort by daylight. 


[327] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 


THE BATTLE WITH THE GRIZZLY 

F ort BRIDGER at this date was not a United 
States military fort, but an Indian trading-post 
established by James H. Bridger, better known 
as Jim Bridger, one of the oldest and best-known hunt- 
ers and scouts in the Rocky Mountains, and probably 
one of the first, if not the first, white man to sail on 
Great Salt Lake, who had hunted and traded all over 
this section of the country for the last thirty years. 

Ray and Arthur and Mildred had looked forward 
with great interest to seeing this renowned old hunter 
in his mountain stronghold, and consequently they were 
three very much interested and curious children who 
accompanied Mr. Judson and Jud Jimpson to the fort 
early the next morning. 

Here, on a large island formed by the Black’s Fork 
dividing itself at this point into three channels, the old 
hunter had surrounded a space of ground some two 
acres in extent with a strong stockade ten feet high, and 
had built his home and trading-post inside of this en- 
closure, which was entered by means of two large 
swinging gates made of extra heavy timbers, through 
which teams and cattle could be driven when there was 
need and held inside safe from all marauders. 

A large number of emigrants were encamped on the 
[328] 


The Battle With the Grizzly 

grass-covered plains surrounding the fort, and the eyes 
of Mr. Judson and Jud Jimpson searched eagerly 
among them for a sight of the light spring waggon 
and the big team of mules, but they searched in vain. 
Not a sign of the Sinful Four was to be seen. 

Jim Bridger gave them a hearty welcome at the fort. 
Jud Jimpson and he were old acquaintances, and had 
hunted and trapped together through this very region 
years before, and for a couple of hours or more the 
children sat entranced, listening while these two old 
hunters recalled the thrilling experiences of those by- 
gone days. 

“ By th’ way, Jim,” Jud Jimpson asked, as they were 
about to start back to camp, “ have you seen anything 
of four men travellin’ with a light spring waggin an’ 
a bouncin’ big span of mules ? Must have reached here 
yesterday or th’ day afore.” 

“ I reckon you mean them fellers camped over by 
the Big Buffalo Waller,” Jim Bridger responded. “ Got 
in night afore last. Mighty fine span of mules, but ’bout 
tuckered. Come on. We’ll see if them’s th’ fellers you 
mean. Their camp’s in sight from over there,” and he 
pointed to the south side of the stockade, where a rude 
ladder gave access to a platform built against the sides 
of the pickets at such a height as to enable one standing 
on it to look over the top of the stockade. 

Jud Jimpson, followed by Jim Bridger, quickly 
mounted to the platform. 

“ There they be,” and Jim Bridger pointed to the 
southwest. “ Down there by — Well, I’ll be jiggered 
if they ain’t gone I An’ I reckoned on a-tradin’ for that 
span of mules, th’ best pair of mules I’ve seen for 
more’n a dog’s age,” and his face showed his surprise 

[329] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and disappointment. “Friends of yourn?” and he 
turned inquiringly to Jud. 

“Yes, th’ kind you want your gun along when you 
call to see ’em,” Jud answered, and then he narrated 
to the old hunter some of the experiences they had had 
with the Sinful Four. 

“ Th’ cowardly sneaks ! ” and Jim Bridger’s eyes 
glinted. “ If they want your scalps, why don’t they 
stand up an’ fight like white men, an’ not skulk along 
your trail like a passel of cowardly Digger Injuns? If 
you come up with ’em, you’d better shoot fust, an’ 
make your inquiries after, when it can be done quiet 
an’ peaceful like. That’s th’ safest way when dealin’ 
with such vermint,” and the scowl on the old Indian- 
fighter’s face fairly made Mildred shudder. 

The waggons required a little “ fixing ” and the 
horses and oxen needed reshoeIng, and to accomplish 
this our friends found it necessary to wait at Fort 
Bridger, where the emigrants kept the blacksmith so 
busy that he usually had a couple of days’ work prom- 
ised ahead, until the fourth morning after their arrival, 
when they bade adieu to the hospitable old hunter and 
started for Salt Lake City, one hundred and twenty-five 
miles to the southwest. 

The route from Fort Bridger to Salt Lake City, for 
the greater part of the way, ran through a wild, sandy, 
desolate country, cut with deep gullies and canyons and 
blocked by huge piles of rocks and great mountains. 
The water was all bad, some of It even poisonous, and 
little more than grease-weed and sage-brush grew from 
the dry. Inhospitable soil. The gee-hawing, waggon- 
creaking stream of noisy emigrants had driven what 
little game there was In the region far from the trail, 

[ 330 ] 


The Battle With the Grizzly 

and nothing eatable, except now and then a jack-rabbit, 
was to be seen. Sometimes the road lay through rock- 
strewn valleys, sometimes over dry, sandy plains, and 
sometimes along the precipitous side of a high moun- 
tain, where a fall meant instant death to man and beast. 

Through this wilderness of barren plains and valleys 
and mountains our friends were anxious to make all 
possible speed, and when they came to a section of the 
road some fifty miles in length, where they were told 
they would find neither grass nor water of any kind 
that was fit to drink, they decided to travel all night, 
in order to get through this waterless region with as 
little suffering from the pangs of thirst as possible. 

The night was cool, as all nights in the mountains 
are, and a full moon hung in the clear, star-sparkling 
skies, its white light seeming to give an added lone- 
liness to the desolate trail, and filling the valleys and 
hollows and rocky canyons with ghostly shadows, while 
the silence of the night was a-tremble with half-heard 
mysterious sounds, and even the commonplace creak- 
ings of the waggon-wheels and the yokes of the strain- 
ing oxen sounded weird and mysterious, as the heavy 
waggons crawled along through the moon-lit valleys or 
up the lonely mountain sides. 

As usual, Jud Jimpson led with his waggon, with 
Mrs. Jimpson and the children inside. Then came Mil- 
dred and Ray and Arthur, riding on their ponies, and 
followed by the Judson waggon, with Mr. Judson strid- 
ing along by the side of his oxen and Mrs. Judson sit- 
ting on the seat in front. Big Tom Rawlins and his red 
oxen drawing the red waggon, with Scoot sitting on 
the waggon seat and rolling his eyes about him as if 
he expected to see a ghost jump up and make for him 

[331 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

from behind every rock, came last. So far as they knew 
there was not another emigrant making this all-night 
journey. 

About midnight the trail began to zig-zag up a 
steep mountain-side. At first the roadway was broad 
and safe, but the higher it went the narrower it became, 
until, just as they came to the highest point, where it 
rounded a spur of the mountain, it was not over six 
feet wide, with a solid wall of rock on one side and 
on the other a precipice so deep that, when Ray and 
Arthur glanced down into it, all they could see were 
black shadows, with here and there the top of a tall 
tree or the jagged point of a huge rock. 

When Jud Jimpson reached this dangerous spot he 
stopped his oxen and bade Mrs. Jimpson and the chil- 
dren get out and walk behind the waggon. If any- 
thing should frighten the oxen they might go over the 
precipice, when they would be sure to drag the wag- 
gon with them. 

“ I reckon you’d better get out, too. Cat,” Mr. Jud- 
son admonished. “ There’s no counting on dumb critters 
in such a scary place, and you’ll be safer if you’ve your 
own legs to depend on.” 

“ I’m going to dismount and lead Beauty,” Mildred 
declared, glancing with a shudder over into the black 
depths of the abyss. “ I think it will be safer for both 
of us.” 

Ray and Arthur, after another glance down into the 
precipice, which looked from their seats on the backs 
of their horses almost directly under them, concluded 
that Mildred’s decision was a wise one, and got off the 
backs of Getthere and. Black Duke, and gripped them 
firmly by the bridle-reins. 

[332] 


The Battle With the Grizzly 

Only Scoot remained in his place in the waggon. He 
refused to budge, and sat tightly clinging to the seat 
with both hands, declaring: “ Dis chile am gwine to 
stay right whar he can hold to somethin’ solid mighty 
hard until we’s gwan by dat black hole. Ts got bones 
dat’ll brak. I nebber done did see no sech scan’lous 
roads in old Kentuck,” and he tightened his grip on > 
the seat. 

Jud Jimpson now started his oxen again, and slowly 
and cautiously moved forward toward the point where 
the narrow road swung around the spur, his eyes on 
his leaders, a small lively yoke of black steers that had 
begun to show signs of uneasiness. Suddenly, just as 
the spot where the road made the turn around the pro- 
jecting crag of the mountain was reached, the black 
steers, with bellows of terror, whirled about like a 
flash and plunged, wild with fright, into the yoke be- 
hind them, and the next instant, so quickly did it all 
happen, the crazed and plunging oxen had stumbled 
over the brink of the precipice and gone down. The 
waggon gave a violent lurch sideways, paused for a mo- 
ment on the very lip of the chasm, and with a creak 
that sounded like a human scream, toppled over and 
disappeared silently and swiftly. 

For a minute all stood motionless, paralysed by this 
dreadful catastrophe, and then with a shriek, “ My 
baby! Oh, my baby!” Mrs. Jimpson sprang toward 
the spot where the waggon had gone over, and had 
she not been caught in the strong arms of her husband, 
she might have plunged after it. 

She had left the sleeping child, closely wrapped in 
a heavy quilt, on a pillow placed on the spring seat in 
front of the waggon and securely tied there with a 
[ 333 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

strong scarf, and for the moment had forgotten that 
the baby was still in the waggon. 

“ Take her and hold her tight,” and Jud Jimpson 
passed his struggling and hysterical wife to Mr. Jud- 
son, who had hurried up. “ I’m goin’ after th’ baby,” 
and with a white set face he started toward the brink. 

No one spoke a word. The horror was too great for 
words. But every eye followed the agonised face of the 
father as he bent over the brink and looked down into 
the precipice. For a moment his eyes searched the black- 
ness below, with what agony of spirit only a father can 
know, and then his face suddenly lighted up, and with 
a shout of joy he leaped to his feet. 

“ A rope ! Quick, a rope I ” he cried, his voice 
tremulous with happiness. “ Th’ little tike is caught in 
th’ bushes, an’ only ’bout ten feet down. Bring a rope, 
quick, an’ let me down. Shucks, Meranda, stop your 
goin’ ons. Th’ yunk’s all right. Jest hear her yell.” 

Never did listening ears hear sweeter music than the 
wails now coming up from the abyss sounded in that 
mother’s ears. She at once stopped her struggling and 
screaming and began to pray. Big Tom Rawlins rushed 
up with the rope, and in two minutes it was around Jud 
Jimpson’s waist and he was being lowered down the 
precipice. A minute later came the glad cry, “ Pull up! 
Pull up! I’ve got th’ yunk!” and in another minute 
Jud Jimpson was safe and the baby was screaming in 
her mother’s arms. 

The waggon, in falling into the precipice, had 
turned completely over, throwing the seat, to which the 
baby fortunately was firmly tied, from its hold on the 
waggon-box into a little clump of sturdy sage-brush 
that grew from the side of the abyss, where the springs 
[ 334 ] 


The Battle With the Grizzly 

caught and held, while the oxen and waggon had gone 
on down into the blackness below, and were never 
seen again by our friends. 

“I wonder what scart them oxen?” Mr. Judson 
said, the moment he saw that the baby was safe. “Just 
keep your eyes on the critters, Tom. I’m going ’round > 
that point and see if I can find out,” and with his rifle 
held ready he started toward the spot where the fright- 
ened black steers had whirled about with such fatal 
results to themselves. 

“ Here, hold Getthere, Art. I’m going with Mr. 
Judson,” and picking up his rifle from the ground, 
where he had dropped it in his excitement, Ray ran 
after Mr. Judson. 

The road, after It rounded the point of rock, ran 
almost straight along the mountainside for forty or 
fifty rods, and the moonlight was bright enough to 
show this stretch of straight road quite distinctly. 

“ Jee-my'mee! ” Ray exclaimed hoarsely, almost the 
moment they had rounded the point. “ What is that? ” 
and he pointed toward a huge black object that stood 
in the centre of the road some twenty rods away. 

“ Great Moses ! A bear ! A grizzly bear, and a 
whopper! ” and catching hold of Ray’s arm and pull- 
ing him with him, Mr. Judson hurried back and made 
known this startling discovery. 

No hunter, no matter how brave and experienced 
he is, would face a ferocious grizzly bear, the most 
terrible animal dwelling in the western continent, on a 
narrow ledge of rocks unless he was obliged to do so, 
and the Judson party notwithstanding there were three 
men and two boys, all armed with good rifles and all 
good shots, would have gladly allowed bruin to go 
[ 335 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

his own way unharmed if that way had been any 
other way than the narrow road over which they must 
travel themselves. But now they could not turn back, 
and they dared not advance their oxen another step 
until they had disposed of the bear, and so there was 
nothing left for them to do but to kill the grizzly bear 
or drive him from the road, and the man does not live 
who has ever made a success of driving a grizzly. 

“ I want th’ job of killin’ that grizzly,” Jud Jimp- 
son said, his jaws coming together grimly as he glanced 
toward the spot where his oxen and waggon had gone 
down. “ An’ you an’ Tom had better stay with your 
critters,” he advised Mr. Judson. “ We don’t want no 
more oxen an’ waggins goin’ down there, an’ th’ rum- 
pus might make th’ cattle uneasy,” and he began care- 
fully examining his rifle. 

“ Let — let Art and me go with you. You know you 
promised us a bear hunt,” and Ray’s eyes sparkled and 
his voice trembled with excitement. “ Our rifle balls 
might help to kill the grizzly.” 

“ So they might. So they might,” and Jud grinned at 
their boyish eagerness, then his face sobered. “ I reckon 
’twon’t be a bad idea, if you can keep cool an’ not 
stampede like them steers did. Three rifles are cer- 
tainly better than one when tacklin’ a grizzly, an’ Jed 
an’ Tom’s got tew stay with th’ cattle. So jest put some 
fresh primin’ in your rifles an’ we’ll have a try for that 
grizzly’s scalp,” and he again gave his attention to his 
rifle. 

In a few minutes the rifles were ready, and Jud Jimp- 
son and the two boys started on their perilous venture, 
while Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins unhooked the 
oxen from the two remaining waggons to avoid the 

[336] 


The Battle With the Grizzly 

possibility of their dragging them into the abyss, even 
should they become frightened and go over, and stood 
by their heads to keep them quiet. 

“ Keep ’bout two paces behind me,” Jud Jimpson 
admonished the boys as they rounded the point of rock. 
“ An’ don’t fire a shot until I do, an’ then aim for th’ 
heart an’ lungs, under th’ fore-shoulder where th’ skin 
is tender. Now keep cool an’ your fingers on th’ trig- 
gers. There’s th’ grizzly! ” 

The bear evidently had been considerably startled 
by the sounds of the excitement that had been going 
on around the point of rock, out of his sight, and had 
stopped to meditate on what it all might mean before 
venturing to continue his journey, and when Jud and 
the boys came around the spur of rocks, he was still 
sitting in the middle of the road where Mr. Judson 
and Ray had seen him. Also, he was evidently in a very 
bad humour, for the moment he caught sight of the 
trio coming toward him he reared himself up on his 
hind legs, growling savagely and showing not a sign 
of giving way an inch. 

“ Coin’ tew give us a fite, be you, you old steer- 
scarer? Well, we ain’t steers, an’ we won’t scare worth 
a cent,” muttered Jud Jimpson, as he continued to 
advance toward the grizzly. “ Jest keep cool as ice, 
boys, an’ shoot for th’ heart,” he cautioned. 

The bright moonlight showed the bear distinctly, 
and every step Ray and Arthur took toward him he 
seemed to grow about a foot every way. Now they were 
so close that they could see his little round eyes gleam- 
ing angrily at them, and the white teeth, and the red 
tongue, and the long, sharp claws, and the great mus- 
cular forelegs that could fell an ox with one blow; 
[337 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Still Jud Jimpson continued to advance, until not more 
than two short rods separated him from the ugly- 
looking monster. 

The bear stood his ground, neither advancing nor 
retreating, but growling horribly, while every hair on 
his huge body sprang up straight. 

“ Now,” and Jud Jimpson stopped, “ step up even 
with me,” he whispered, never for an instant taking 
his eyes from the bear. “ Throw your guns tew your 
shoulders an’ aim for th’ heart,” and Jud Jimpson’s 
long rifle came to his shoulder. “ Ready? ” 

“ Yes! Yes! ” whispered back both boys, their eyes 
glancing along their rifle barrels to the tawny breast of 
the huge beast. 

“Fire!” 

The three rifles flashed almost simultaneously. 

The bear uttered a dreadful roar and plunged 
straight toward them, foam and blood dropping from 
his jaws, and his huge body swaying from side to side 
and his eyes glowing like red coals. 

“ Back! Git back tew th’ waggons! ” Jud Jimpson 
shouted to the boys, dropping his rifle and drawing 
his long hunting-knife and keeping his eyes on the bear, 
but never making a move to get back himself. 

Ray and Arthur both instinctively jumped back — 
what boys would not with such a monster hurling him- 
self toward them? — but stayed themselves not ten feet 
from where Jud Jimpson stood, knife in hand, awah- 
ing the grizzly, that must be stopped now and here, or 
what ruin might not be wrought around that jutting 
point of rocks? 

The bear rushed straight toward Jud Jimpson ami, 
so quickly that neither boy could ever tell just how it 

[338] ; 



The Bear Stood his Ground. 






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't V:- 







V'-ai^'^L- a rf* * •^ 

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The Battle With the Grizzly 

happened, the two were down on that narrow ledge, 
rolling at the boys’ feet, the bear on top. 

Ray saw the wide-opened mouth not two feet from 
his trembling hand, and hardly knowing what he did 
he grabbed his revolver from his belt, thrust the long 
barrel into the red mouth, and pulled the trigger. , 

There was a muffled report, the grizzly threw him- 
self violently backward and sideways, his hind legs 
went over the edge of the precipice, and for an instant 
he hung, clawing desperately at the smooth, hard rock, 
then slid swiftly downward and disappeared. 

“ That was a mighty narrer squeak for me,” and 
Jud Jimpson staggered to his feet and caught hold of 
Ray’s hand. “ I’d been a goner in ’bout tew seconds 
if you hadn’t knowed enough to poke that pistol intew 
th’ brute’s mouth an’ pull th’ trigger. That was a 
mighty brave thing tew do, an’ Jud Jimpson won’t 
forgit it,” and he almost jerked Ray’s arm from his 
shoulder with the violent shakes he gave his hand. 

“ I — I was so scart that I hardly knew what I was 
doing,” Ray answered frankly, his face white and his 
knees trembling so that he could barely stand. 

The sounds of the fearful struggle with the grizzly 
had come but faintly to the anxiously listening ears 
around the point of rocks, and had caused the oxen 
and horses only a slight uneasiness which was easily 
quieted, and when Jud Jimpson and Ray and Arthur 
returned triumphant and safe, there was great rejoic- 
ing. The oxen were again quickly hooked to the wag- 
gons and the journey resumed at once, for all were 
anxious to get away from that fatal spot as speedily 
as possible. 

The loss of the oxen and waggon and goods was 

[339] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

irreparable. They lay crushed at the bottom of the 
precipice hundreds of feet below, and near them lay 
the huge body of the dead grizzly. 

“No more grizzlies and narrow ledges hanging in 
the skies for me,’’ Mr. Judson declared, as the waggons 
began again moving along the narrow road; and every 
one of the company echoed the sentiment most emphati- 
cally. 

The roadway now began to descend the mountain- 
side, and in a short time reached a valley, where a 
spring of drinkable water and a little grass told them 
that they had come to the end of the fifty-mile stretch 
of barrenness over which they had been travelling 
with hardly a pause for nearly twenty hours, and they 
at once went into camp, too tired even to consider how 
thankful they should be that this perilous portion of 
the journey was safely over. 

The next day our friends passed through Echo Can- 
yon, whose vari-coloured walls of red, white, and yel- 
low, topped with fantastic-shaped rocks, looked, to the 
delighted eyes of the children, like a fairyland of mys- 
tical castles, towers, pinnacles, and ancient cathedrals, 
while the little river, winding through shady groves 
in the grass-covered valley below, was an even more 
pleasing sight to the tired men, who rested in the shade 
of the trees while the glad oxen and horses fed on the 
rich grass. 

A few days later, near the close of a beautiful Sep- 
tember day, the little party paused at the mouth of 
Emigrant Canyon, and looked down on a scene not one 
of them ever forgot. Below them, north and south, 
stretched a vast plain, threaded with shining streams 
of water, green with grass and the leaves of trees, 
[340] 


The Battle With the Grizzly 

yellow with fields of ripening grain, and framed, on 
the west and north and east, with the beetling preci- 
pices and rocky slopes of great mountains. In the midst 
of this Delectable Valley, surrounded by cultivated 
fields and orchards, lay that wonderful city in the wil- 
derness — Great Salt Lake City. 

Now, if you will remember that not one of the party 
had seen a town, or even a house worthy of the name, 
or a cultivated field of growing crops, or any other signs 
of civilised life for nearly three months, you can imagine 
something of the ecstasies of delight with which our 
friends, especially the children, gazed down on this 
beautiful picture of moving civilised human life, and 
how eagerly they longed to be in its midst. 

The descent of the mountainside was made that 
afternoon, and late that night our friends went into 
camp near the Warm Springs a little to the north of 
the town, and when they rolled themselves up in their 
blankets to go to sleep, the distant sounds of the little 
city made music in their ears and sweetened their 
dreams. 


[341 ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY 


THE CITY OF THE SAINTS 

S ALT LAKE CITY, the City of the Great Salt 
Lake, had been founded by the Mormons, who 
called themselves the “ Latter-day Saints of the 
Church of Jesus Christ,’’ only two years before, in the 
midst of what was then an absolute wilderness, in- 
habited solely by wild beasts and savages, a thousand 
miles from any civilised community — a marvellous 
thing to do, and marvellously had the town grown 
within that short period. It was now a well laid out 
city nearly four miles long by three in width, inhabited 
by some eight thousand people. 

Near the centre of the city was a large public square, 
and hither our friends drove in the early morning and 
pitched their camp in the midst of a large company of 
emigrants, who were here recruiting themselves and 
animals before undertaking the hard journey across 
the barren salt plains west of Great Salt Lake. 

“ My, but don’t it seem good to see real houses with 
real people living in them, and real gardens with real 
flowers and vegetables growing in them!” Mildred 
exclaimed, as she and the boys wandered about the little 
city together later in the day. 

“ Yes,” Arthur answered laughing, “ but it would 
seem a jolly lot better to be eating some of the real 

[342 ] 


The City of the Saints 

vegetables and fruits from those gardens. I never had 
anything taste so good to me before as those new pota- 
toes did we had this morning — and the butter and 
eggs and radishes and cabbage ! ” and Arthur licked 
his chops and smacked his lips at the recollection of the 
feast they had all had that morning on fresh meat and 
butter and eggs and vegetables and fruits. 

“ And what do you think! ” Ray declared, grinning. 
“ This morning I actually saw two men eating at a 
table with a white table-cloth and china dishes on It, 
and the men had napkins, real white napkins, and I 
saw one of them wipe his mouth with his napkin just 
as unconcernedly as if he was accustomed to doing It 
every day.” 

The children laughed so merrily that a sad-faced 
woman, with a little baby In her arms and two small 
children clinging to her skirts, came to the door of a 
nearby cottage and regarded them curiously, as if won- 
dering what they could find to laugh about In this sad 
old world, while another woman and three more small 
children looked out at them through an opened window 
of the same cottage. 

“ Wonder If there are any more women and babies 
stowed away In that one small house? ” Arthur queried, 
staring at the two women and the children. 

“Well, I should say! ” Ray exclaimed, as another 
window was thrown open and a third woman thrust 
a head out that was quickly surrounded by half a 
dozen other smaller heads. “ The show has only just 
begun.” 

“ Poor women ! ” Mildred said sympathetically, her 
face sobering. “ They don’t look happy.” 

“ Poor man! ” Arthur retorted laughingly. “Think 

[343 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

of living in a little house like that with three women and 
an even dozen of children, the oldest not over seven 
years of age! ” 

“ He’d no business to marry more than one woman 
then! ” Mildred snapped back, her face flushing. “ Be- 
sides, the man don’t have to stay in the house and mind 
the children the way the women do. I don’t see how 
any woman can marry a Mormon. I wouldn’t marry 
the best Mormon that ever lived. It’s wicked,” and her 
eyes flashed indignantly. 

“ Well, it does look rather tough, no matter from 
which side you look at it,” Ray interposed philosophi- 
cally. “ Tough for the man and tough for the women 
and tough for the children. Now — ” He stopped 
abruptly and stared down the street. “ See — look there ! 
Those two men! ” and he pointed to where two men 
sat talking earnestly together on a large rock some 
twenty rods farther on down the street. “ The man on 
this side. It’s — it’s ” 

“ Slim George, the gambler ! ” broke in Arthur ex- 
citedly. “ Come, let’s get behind that hedge before he 
sees us,” and he hurried toward a hedge of young trees 
that surrounded a nearby plot of ground, followed by 
Mildred and Ray. 

“ I wonder who that is with him,” Ray said, the 
moment they were safely hidden by the trees. “ I am 
going to try and see,” and he began creeping along 
the hedge, looking for an opening through which he 
might see the two men. He found the opening, looked 
through it, and quickly beckoned to Arthur and 
Mildred. 

“ He’s handing the man some money,” he whispered 
excitedly when Arthur and Mildred stood by his side. 

[ 344 ] 


The City of the Saints 

“ And now they are shaking hands and saying good- 
bye.” 

By this time Arthur and Mildred had each found a 
hole through the hedge and were watching the two 
men. Evidently they had come upon the gambler and 
his companion just as they were about to conclude the 
interview, for, after standing for a few moments with 
hands tightly gripped, they parted, the gambler going'" 
on down the street and his companion coming directly 
toward the spot where the children were hidden. 

“ Let’s pretend we are sitting down in the shade of 
the hedge resting,” Mildred said, quickly seating her- 
self on the grass. “ He doesn’t know us, and then we 
can get a good look at him when he goes by.” 

Ray and Arthur promptly seated themselves by her 
side, and hardly had they done so when around a little 
turn in the street came Slim George’s companion. He 
was a tall, lank man, with a long face and a large 
hooked nose, on each side of which twinkled a small 
shifty black eye that looked as if it were constantly on 
the search for something that it could never find. Evi- 
dently he was in a hurry, for he walked swiftly by the 
children, barely noticing them as he passed, and on 
down the street in the direction of the emigrant en- 
campment on the public square. 

“ He’s no Mormon,” Ray declared, as the children 
arose to continue their stroll. “ Looks like a hard-luck 
emigrant. Wish I knew what that gambler was paying 
him money for.” 

“ If wishes were horses, then all the beggars might 
ride,” Arthur replied lightly. “ For my part I am more 
than willing to leave the Sinful Four strictly alone, so 
long as they don’t bother us, and if they do try to give 

[345] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

us any trouble, I guess Big Tom Rawlins and Mr. Jud- 
son, to say nothing of Jud Jimpson and his rifle, would 
be more than a match for a dozen like them.’* 

By this time the three children had reached the out- 
skirts of the little city, and were about to turn back 
when Mildred’s eyes were attracted by a number of 
queer-looking little dwelling-places clustered together 
at the end of one of the side streets. 

“What funny houses!” she exclaimed, pointing 
toward them. “ They look like the tops of waggons 
taken off the wheels and set on the ground.” 

“ And that’s exactly what they are,” Ray declared. 
“ You see the Mormons are coming in here faster than 
they can build houses for them, and so they just set their 
covered waggon-boxes on the ground, put a little stove 
in them, and make themselves as comfortable as pos- 
sible. That’s why the Mormons get on so splendid — 
they make the best of everything.” 

“ I should say they did,” Arthur agreed. “ See how 
they have made use of the river to water their gardens 
and crops. Why, every little garden has a little stream 
of water running to it. They are independent of the 
rain,” and he glanced up and down the street, where 
little streams of water ran along each side, from which 
diverged smaller streams to every garden-plot along the 
street. In this way the entire city was irrigated, giving 
life and beauty and verdure to what had been a barren 
waste. 

“ Well, I don’t care,” Mildred persisted. “ I don’t 
like the Mormons, anyway, even if they have made 
the desert to bloom like the rose, and I think it is time 
we were getting back to camp. I am tired of looking 
at Mormons.” 


[346] 


The City of the Saints 

The boys laughed, and at once turned their steps 
toward the emigrant camp on the public square. 

As they came up to the spot where their waggons 
and tents stood, a tall, lank fellow came out from be- 
hind one of the waggons, where he had been talking 
with the three men, and passed them on his way to his 
own camp, so close that they might have touched him. 

“ The man we saw with the gambler! ” Ray whis- 
pered excitedly, staring after the man, who made no 
sign of having recognised the children. 

“ Let’s hurry and tell papa,” and Mildred started 
on the run to where her father and Jud Jimpson and 
Tom Rawlins sat talking together in the shade of one 
of the waggons, while the rest of the party were gath- 
ered in a group in front of the two tents. 

“Hello! What’s up now? Mormons trying to ab- 
duct you? ” and Mr. Judson turned quickly to Mildred, 
who rushed up to him much as if a hundred Mormons 
were hot after her. 

“ No — but — ^who was that man you were just talk- 
ing with? And what did he want? We — we saw him 
talking with that gambler you call Slim George, and 
the gambler handed him some money, and ” 

“ He must have come straight from the gambler 
here,” broke in Ray. 

“ We hid behind a hedge so that he did not see us 
— I mean the gambler didn’t,” continued Mildred. 
“What did he want, papa?” 

“ Why, he’s a gold-seeker from somewhere in Illi- 
nois, and just came over to have a chat with us ’bout 
California and the best way to get there from here,” 
Mr. Judson answered. “ Them pesky rascals,” and his 
face clouded. “ What do you suppose they are up to 
[347 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

now? ” and he turned to Jud Jimpson and Tom Raw- 
lins. 

“ ’Pears tew me,” Jud Jimpson responded, “ that 
they’ve been tryin’ tew do sum pumpin’, an’ that that 
there feller was their pump. He was mighty inquisitive.” 

“ I fancy Jud’s hit it ’bout right,” Tom Rawlins 
declared. “ He asked too many questions to suit me. 
I never did like a feller with that sort of nose, anyhow. 
Always sticking itself into other people’s business. But 
what are them skunks after? That’s what I’d like to 
know.” 

“ And I told him all about our plans,” Mr. Judson 
said disgustedly. “ Now,” and his face hardened, “ I 
propose that we give them fellows the slip by starting 
on the trail early to-morrow morning instead of wait- 
ing here a couple of more days as I told him we were 
going to. If he’s in with the Sinful Four, he’ll be likely 
to go to them to-night and give them all the informa- 
tion he got out of us, and so they won’t be looking 
for us to start for a couple of days, and maybe we 
can get so far along before they discover that we’ve 
gone that they can’t catch up with us. Our critters are 
in good condition, and the sooner we get to California 
the better, anyway. What do you say? I’m sick of hav- 
ing that crowd tagging us. Let’s try and ship them 
for good.” 

Tom and Jud agreed with Mr. Judson, and accord- 
ingly our friends determined to break camp and start 
again on their way for the gold mines early in the 
morning. The rest of the day they were busy buying 
the few supplies they needed and getting everything 
in readiness for leaving Salt Lake City. This was done 
as quietly as possible, so as to keep their going a secret 
[348] 


The City of the Saints 

from the other emigrants. They saw no more of the 
tall, lank man until about nine o’clock that night, when 
he passed their camp-fire and stopped to have a few 
minutes’ chat with the men. 

“ I beared tew-day that th’ Snake Injuns west of th’ 
lake are thirstin’ for white blood,” he said. “ Some fool 
emigrants got intew a row with ’em an’ killed some , 
on ’em, an’ now they’re a-layin’ for th’ whites. I reckon 
’twouldn’t be a bad plan for a few on us tew join forces 
while goin’ through their country, an’ seein’ that we’re 
both plannin’ tew start th’ same day, I calculate ’twould 
be a good idear for us tew hook together for mutual 
pertection. No harm done, if bein’ your wantin’ no com- 
pany,” and he paused and his shifty black eyes passed 
quickly from face to face in the little group around 
the Judson camp-fire. 

“ That’s a good idea, neighbour,” Mr. Judson re- 
plied with seeming heartiness, “ and if your critters are 
in shape to keep up with ourn, I reckon we’ll go you. 
Come over to-morrow afternoon and we’ll talk it over. 
Going to be away from camp in the forenoon. An 
improving lot of people, these Mormons. They’ve 
made this barren country to bloom like a flower gar- 
den.” 

“ Yes,” scowled the man, ‘‘ but an ornery lot of 
thieves, every last one on ’em. They’d steal th’ coppers 
off a dead man’s eyes. I’ve got no kind of use for 
Mormons,” and his shifty eyes glittered wickedly. 

For five or ten minutes longer he stood and talked by 
the camp-fire, and then returned to his camp, which he 
said was “ t’other side of th’ square,” promising to be 
over the next afternoon to talk over the “ hooking to- 
gether ” proposition. 


[349] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Well, if he ain’t a sneak of some kind, then I can’t 
read eyes and noses,” declared Tom Rawlins, as soon 
as the man was out of hearing. 

“ ’Tain’t no face of an angel he’s got, that’s sar- 
tain,” agreed Jud Jimpson. “ An’ if he ain’t sheriff’s 
meat of some kind, then I don’t know huffier hump 
when I’m eatin’ it.” 

“ Now,” and Mr. Judson arose from the waggon 
tongue on which he had been sitting, “ if we get started 
before daylight to-morrow morning, everybody better 
be getting into their blankets. I am going to bed.” 

All saw the wisdom of following Mr. Judson’s ex- 
ample, and in ten minutes our friends, with the excep- 
tion of the guard, were slumbering as peacefully and 
much more sweetly in their blankets than they had ever 
done in their beds in their far Eastern homes. 


[350] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 


NEWS OF THE SINFUL FOUR 

N OW, we’re on the home-stretch ! ” Ray 
shouted jubilantly early the next morning, 
as Mildred and Arthur and he galloped on 
ahead of the slow-moving waggons that had already 
crossed the River Jordan and left the City of the Saints 
behind them. “ And our next stopping-place will be the 
gold mines themselves! Hurrah for California! We’re 
almost there! Hurrah! ” and he jerked off his hat and 
swung it around his head and yelled just from sheer 
exuberance of youthful spirits, and for the same splen- 
did reason Mildred and Arthur joined their voices to 
his and shouted till their voices rang far ahead over 
the desolate plain toward the still distant Land of 
Golden Promises. 

“ Wouldn’t it be great if we should discover a gold 
mine ? ” Arthur said a few minutes later, after they 
had blown off their excess of steam and had quieted 
down, “ and find enough gold to make us rich enough 
to buy a dozen farms like that of old Thompson’s? 
What would you do with your cash, if we should, 
Ray?” 

They were now walking their horses and riding side 
by side, with Mildred between the two boys, and it 
was a minute or two before Ray answered Arthur, his 

[351 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

face sobering and his eyes becoming pensive as he 
spoke. 

“ IVe thought a great deal about that,” he confessed, 
his face flushing just a little, “ and I have planned just 
what to do if I should be so lucky as to find the gold,” 
and his eyes began to sparkle. “ First, I’d try and learn 
who my mother was and find her folks, and if they 
were poor I’d help them, and then I’d try and find out 
all I could about my father’s family, and if they needed 
help I’d help them, too. I’d — I’d like to feel as if I be- 
longed to somebody. You know I have father’s ring,” 
and he thrust his hand down his neck and caught hold 
of the cord to which the ring was attached and pulled 
it out, “ and that ought to help me. It’s such a curi- 
ous ring that any one who had seen it once would be 
almost sure to remember it if they should see it again,” 
and he held the golden circlet up and looked longingly 
at the two gold vipers whose intertwined bodies formed 
the ring, and whose jaws held upraised the beautiful 
blood-red ruby that he had been told was of great 
value. “ If they could only speak,” he had often 
thought. “ If they could only speak, what might they 
not be able to tell me? ” 

“ And this is all that you have to remember your 
father or mother or relatives or anybody,” and Mil- 
dred touched the ring almost reverently, while the tears 
came into her eyes. “ I had a little baby brother once 
before I was born,” she continued softly, “ and a wicked 
woman, his nurse, stole him, and papa and mamma 
never, never found him again, but please don’t say any- 
thing to mamma and papa about it, because mamma 
always cries and papa looks so sad whenever anything 
is said about baby brother. I just wanted to let you 

[352] 


News of the Sinful Four 

know that we have had our troubles, too, and— and 
could feel for you, for both of you boys,” and she 
turned to Arthur. “ Of course you would try and find 
your folks, too, wouldn’t you? ” 

“ Yes, yes,” and Arthur’s eyes grew moist. “ If I 
only could find my father and mother. I’d gladly give 
all the gold there is in California, if I had it. You don’t 
know how it feels never to have known who your 
father and mother were. But I haven’t even a ring to 
help me find my parents, only my name, and like as 
not that is not my real name. But what’s the use of 
crying over spilt milk? ’Twon’t make the cream come. 
Only I would like to find my father and mother, some- 
how I feel as if they were both still living; and if I do 
find any gold I’ll gladly spend every cent of it, if I have 
to, hunting for them — There, that’s Jud calling for 
us, and I fancy that means that we are getting too far 
from the waggons, so we’d better stop here and wait 
until they catch up.” 

“If you yunks don’t want tew be gobbled up by 
them Snake Injuns, you’d better keep nigh th’ wag- 
gins,” Jud Jimpson said as the waggons came slowly 
up to where the children were awaiting them. “ We’re 
gittin’ out of God’s country an’ intew th’ other feller’s, 
where I reckon them Snake Injuns ’ll be right ter 
home,” and he grinned. 

And, indeed, to our little party of emigrants, fresh 
from the blooming verdure of the Great Salt Lake 
Valley, it did begin to look as if they were “ gittin’ out 
of God’s country,” as Jud Jimpson said, and entering 
regions with which a beneficent Being never had had 
anything to do. With every mile travelled their sur- 
roundings became more desolate, wild, and barren. In 

[353] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

front of them the land stretched away In a great level 
alkali plain, with here and there a ridge of bleak rocks 
jutting up above Its surface like Islands In a sea. No 
grass grew on this plain except In small, dry, scattered 
bunches, nor a tree, nor a shrub of any kind, save the 
desert sage-brush, which seems to be able to flourish 
in a soil that will support no other kind of vegetation. 
Stagnant pools of water, thick and brown and poison- 
ous with alkali, stood by the trail-side, and farther on 
they came to where springs of water boiled, hissing hot 
from hidden fires, to the surface, and formed In pools, 
sometimes of considerable extent. Truly a grimly deso- 
late prospect for our friends. 

The third night out from Salt Lake City they 
camped near a number of these hot springs, some of 
which had formed bluish pools of clear water, with 
clean, pebbly bottoms, just warm enough for a delight- 
ful bath, while others were so hot that one might have 
boiled an egg In their waters, and curiously enough the 
hottest of these pools stood not six feet from the 
coolest, where the water chilled the touch. 

That night everybody had great sport bathing. The 
two tents were placed over two pools of water of ex- 
actly the right size and temperature, forming the most 
delightful and luxuriant baths Imaginable, and In one 
of these the “ women folks ” and In the other the 
“ men folks ” bathed, until, as Arthur put It, they all 
felt like “ new whistles.” The air during the past two 
days had been loaded with hot alkali dust, and their 
eyes and ears and noses and mouths were filled with It, 
while It covered their skins In layers, and nothing more 
pleasant and grateful to their weary dust-covered 
bodies could be Imagined than these warm baths. 

[354] 


News of the Sinful Four 

“ I feel as if I had a new skin and new muscles and 
new bones,” Ray declared as he and Arthur came out of 
their novel bath-room. “ Never had a bath do me so 
much good before in my life. Why, every joint feels as 
if it had been freshly oiled.” 

“ Can’t beat Old Dame Nater when she sets out tew 
do a thing,” Jud Jimpson avouched. “ Not for a mil- 
lion dollars could you build baths like them. There’s 
somethin’ in them waters that goes tew every ache an’ 
soreness in th’ body. It’s better’n takin’ a bath in 
arnica.” 

This was the verdict of all, and there probably was 
some healing quality in the waters, which were impreg- 
nated with minerals brought from the bowels of the 
earth. 

The next day our friends came to another of na- 
ture’s wonders — a salt plain. At first the plain con- 
sisted simply of dried mud, thickly covered with small 
salt crystals, but as they advanced the salt became 
thicker and thicker until the entire ground was covered 
with a thin layer of soft, moist salt, through which 
the feet of their oxen and horses sank at every step 
into the mud beneath. A couple of miles farther on the 
salt became dry and solid, and to their astonishment 
they found themselves walking upon a solid sheet of 
pure salt that covered the ground to the depth of nearly 
an inch, and was as white and clean-looking as any 
table salt they had ever eaten. For miles to the right 
and the left and in front of them stretched this plain of 
dazzling whiteness, where millions of bushels of the 
purest salt lay ready for table use. 

“ My goodness, there must be enough salt here to 
supply all creation until Gabriel blows his trumpet! ” 

[355] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Mildred exclaimed, looking wonderingly at the vast 
white plain. 

“ And to think,” Arthur exulted, his face glowing 
with enthusiasm, “ that all this wonderful country, with 
its vast plains and lofty mountains and broad rivers 
and natural wonders, over which weVe been steadily 
journeying for months, is but a part of our great na- 
tion, and a part that has not yet even been settled! 
My, but won’t the United States be a great nation when 
all this wilderness is covered with farms and villages 
and cities, the greatest nation the world has ever seen 1 
I’m glad I was born in the United States, where such 
great things are to be done.” 

“ So am I, but I’d be gladder just now,” the more 
practical Ray declared, “ if this plain was covered with 
green grass that our critters could eat, with here and 
there a little water that we could drink, instead of this 
wonderful salt that isn’t any good to any of us. If this 
salt don’t come to an end pretty soon, I don’t see where 
we are to get any water to drink or any grass for our 
oxen and horses, and just the sight of so much salt 
makes me thirsty. I feel as if I could drink a barrelfuJ 
right now.” 

For a couple of hours longer the hard crust of white 
salt continued under their feet, and then it became 
gradually thinner and thinner, until at last it disap- 
peared altogether, and scattered clumps of sage-brush 
and bunch-grass told them that they had again come 
to where green things might grow. 

The next day they passed out of this region of won- 
ders, and for many weary days toiled slowly along the 
hot dusty trail, through a desolate uninteresting tract 
of rough country that lay between the Great Salt Lake 

[356] 


News of the Sinful Four 

Valley and the head- waters of Humboldt River. Grass 
and water were scarce, and both were impregnated 
with alkali, and the oxen began to grow thin and weak 
and to show signs of the dreaded alkali poisoning that 
caused the death of so many thousands of the animals 
of the emigrants. 

The line of emigrants before and behind them was 
now thin and scattered, a line of weary travel-worn 
gaunt men and women, and foot-sore, starving animals 
that were continually falling by the roadside to leave 
their bones where they fell. At one place, near a spring 
of alkali water, they found ten oxen lying together, 
poisoned by the water, and near them stood two dis- 
mantled waggons with their goods scattered about on 
the ground. In front of the spring the unfortunate emi- 
grant had thrust into the ground a piece of one of the 
waggon tongues, to which he had nailed an end-board 
with this warning written in large black letters on it : 

DON’T LET YOUR CRITTERS DRINK OUT OF THIS 
SPRING— MINE DID— AND THERE THEY BE. 

This was followed by a rudely drawn hand, with index 
finger extended and pointing to the dead oxen. A fear- 
ful reminder at what a sacrifice of life and suffering 
the yet undug gold of California was being purchased. 

Before they reached the Humboldt River two of 
their own oxen, the wheel-yoke of Tom Rawlins’s wag- 
gon, gave out and had to be abandoned, and for the first 
time our friends were compelled to lighten the load 
for the two remaining yokes by throwing away such 
of the goods as could be most easily spared from the 
waggon. 


[357] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

There were tears m Mildred’s eyes when they drove 
on one morning and left these two faithful animals, 
that had served them for so many weary miles, stand- 
ing weakly by the trail’s side and regarding their depar- 
ture with uneasy eyes, as if wondering why they were 
to be thus deserted, but the thought that they were 
leaving them in a pleasant little valley where there was 
an abundance of grass and water gave comfort to her 
tender heart. 

“ I hope you will get well and strong and live a long 
and comfortable life, you good old faithful oxen,” she 
called back to them, waving her hand in farewell as she 
turned and rode after the waggons. 

All along the trail, since leaving Salt Lake City, 
rumours of threatening dangers from the enraged Snake 
Indians were passing to and fro, and our friends were 
ever on their guard, but only once did they get sight 
of any of these Indians, and then they had only a 
glimpse, for the Indians, a dozen or so men and squaws, 
fled at the first sight of the whites, as if fearful of their 
lives. Evidently they had had all the dealings with the 
treacherous white man they cared for, and had come 
to the conclusion that their only safety lay in keeping 
out of his reach, at least while so many of his white 
brothers were passing through their country. 

Our friends entered into a more favourable country 
when the head-waters of the Humboldt were reached, 
where the trail ran through a narrow valley along 
the side of the stream. Here the grass was plenty and 
the water was at least fit to drink, while the willows 
growing along the water’s edge furnished them with 
an abundance of fuel. 

“ Now, I calculate we’d better ease up a bit,” Mr. 

[358] 


News of the Sinful Four 

Judson said, when they camped one night in this pleas- 
ant valley, “ and give the critters a chance to pick up 
some flesh and strength before tackling the desert be- 
yond the Humboldt Sink. They’re mighty near petered 
out and full of alkali, and if we ain’t careful they’ll 
never live to get across that stretch of desert.” 

Accordingly, the journey down the valley of the 
Humboldt was made in easy stages, but the wearied 
animals did not appear to gather flesh and strength as 
they should, and when, some two weeks later, the little 
party reached the Sink, where the waters of the Hum- 
boldt spread out into a boggy, reed-covered lake and 
were lost in the sands of the desert, they were still 
weak and thin. But our friends did not dare to delay 
longer. It was now nearing the middle of October and 
winter was coming, and the dreaded Sierra Nevada 
Mountains were yet to be crossed. 

Before them lay a desert some eighty-five miles wide, 
where there was neither grass nor water and where the 
hot sun scorched and burned as if focussed by an enor- 
mous sun-glass, and before crossing this Land of Hot 
Miseries, they must cut grass for their horses and oxen 
and fill every available vessel with water. Accordingly, 
notwithstanding their haste, it was determined to spend 
a day here getting everything in readiness for the cross- 
ing of the desert. 

Along the boggy edges of the lake the grass grew 
thick and coarse, and every one able to use a knife or 
other cutting instrument, including Mildred and her 
mother and Mrs. Jimpson, each armed with a pair of 
shears, was soon busy “ making hay ’J for the cattle, 
and when a sufficient quantity of this had been cut it 
dried and tightly packed in the waggons. Then 
[ 359 ] 


was 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the water vessels, everything that would hold water, 
were filled and securely placed in the waggons. This 
had taken considerable time, for the grass-cutting with 
knives and shears was slow work, and the water-soaked 
grass, after cutting, had to be spread out on the ground 
to dry, and it was three o’clock in the afternoon of the 
next day after they had reached the Sink before every- 
thing was in readiness to continue their journey, and 
the word was given to yoke up. 

About the Sink were a number of emigrant camps, 
some waiting for their worn-out animals to get strong 
enough to venture with them across the desert, and 
others cutting grass and making ready for the jour- 
ney. As they passed one of these camps a man hailed 
them. 

“ Hello 1” he called. “Your friends thought you 
had gone on across the desert, and started hotfooted 
after you early yesterday morning, hardly stopping 
long enough to get grass and water for their critters.” 

“ Well, that’s news, comrade,” Mr. Judson called 
back, bringing the oxen to a halt, “ seeing that we’ve 
left all our friends many miles behind us. I reckon your 
shot has hit the wrong party.” 

“No,” and the man’s eyes swept over the Judson 
outfit. “ I’d swear that’s the right combination, accord- 
in’ to the description given me. Red waggon, drawn by 
two yokes of big red oxen and driven by a fellow ’bout 
six and a half feet tall. T’other waggon with some 
poetry ’bout goin’ clear through to the Sacramento 
writ on its cover. Three kids, one of them a gal, ridin’ 
on horses. Two women and more kids in the waggons, 
and a little black nigger boy. No, neighbour, I reckon 
my shot hit the bull’s-eye plumb in the centre. Leastwise 
[360] 


News of the Sinful Foui 

them four fellows drivin’ that big span of mules got 
your description down pat.” 

“ Great Moses, I thought we had given that Sinful 
Four the slip for good this time 1 ” and Mr. Judson’s 
eyes flashed angrily. “ And here they are ahead of us 
again and looking for us,” and he turned a troubled / 
face to Mrs. Judson, who sat on the front seat of the 
waggon. 

“ Well,” Jud Jimpson grinned, “ ’tain’t so bad as it 
might be, seein’ that they fancy we’re ahead on ’em, an’ 
are a-tryin’ tew overhaul us. I reckon ’twill take ’em 
sum time tew catch up with us goin’ that way,” and 
his grin broadened. “ But it beats me what they’re so 
tarnal anxious for our company for.” 

“ Thank you, comrade,” and Mr. Judson turned to 
the man who had hailed them. “ We do know them 
four scoundrels, and the farther they keep away from 
us the better we’ll like it.” 

“ Then,” and the man laughed, “ you’d better just 
let them keep a-goin’ a-tryin’ to catch up with you.” 

“ ’Twon’t be by our stopping them, if they quit this 
side of the Pacific. G’n langl Haw, there!” and the 
long lash of Mr. Judson’s whip cracked over the backs 
of his oxen, and the wheels of the waggons were again 
rolling toward the hot sands of the desert. 


[361 ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 


THE CRY IN THE DESERT 

T he trail across the desert was through an 
abominable country, covered with loose black, 
yellow, and red stones of all sizes, and split 
masses of rocks, over which the waggons jolted and the 
oxen stumbled, while the wheels sank nearly to their 
hubs in the dust, that rose In hot clouds and settled 
thickly on man and beast and waggons. The sky above 
was absolutely cloudless, and the sun was like the open 
door of an immense furnace pouring Its heat directly 
down on the parched and shrivelled earth. The hot air 
rose In hot waves from the hot ground, and the distant 
hills and piles of rocks looked seared and cracked, as if 
they had been baked In some enormous oven and then 
dumped red-hot on the ground. Ahead and behind 
them, at Intervals of a mile or more, trudged other par- 
ties of emigrants, enveloped In dust clouds, but as they 
advanced and overtook and passed party after party, 
the line of emigrants ahead grew thinner and thinner, 
until only the lifeless, shrivelled desert stretched before 
them. 

There was no stopping to camp that night, only 
brief pauses every two or three hours for rest and to 
give the animals a few mouthfuls of the cut grass and a 
little water, and then on they would go. The stars 
[362] 


The Cry in the Desert 

came out and the moon came up and shone down on 
the wild, desolate scene, and still on and on they 
plodded. The dead stillness of the dead desert was all 
around them. The creak of the waggon-wheels, the 
crack of the ox-whips, the thud, thud of the hoofs of 
the animals, all had a strangely weird sound in that 
unnatural silence. Few words were spoken. No one 
cared to talk. All were oppressed with the gloom and 
silence of the desert, all were wearied in body and in 
mind, but still on they moved. The moon rose high 
and began to go down in the western skies. The leg- 
weary oxen, hungry and thirsty, faltered in their yokes. 
The heads of the horses drooped, and they moved their 
feet listlessly. Ray and Arthur and Mildred walked 
by the sides of their horses. No one, save the three 
youngest Jimpson children, rode. The oxen must 
be spared every possible pound of weight. In the 
early dawn they came to a huge outcropping ledge 
of rocks, and here they halted for a couple of hours’ 
rest. 

The oxen and the horses were given a little of the 
cut grass to eat and a little of the precious water to 
drink, and then all — men and beasts — stretched them- 
selves out on the earth, too exhausted to make a move 
unless compelled to do so. 

At the end of the two hours, stiff and sore and hungry 
and thirsty, the tedious journey was resumed. The sun 
had now risen and the heat soon became oppressive. 
In two hours more the air felt almost burning hot 
against the naked cheeks and hands. The oxen began 
to show signs of extreme exhaustion, and at last one 
of Mr. Judson’s wheelers fell in his yoke to the ground, 
and in a few minutes was dead. The oxen must have 

[363 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

rest and water. Animal strength could not longer toil 
on and endure the heat and the thirst. 

“We will camp here until the heat of the day is 
past,” Mr. Judson said, beginning to unyoke his oxen. 

In a few minutes the oxen were unyoked, and each 
was given a few swallows of the now doubly precious 
water and a little bundle of grass, and the horses were 
fed a little grass and given a little water. Then the two 
tents were pitched on the hot sand and, almost com- 
pletely worn out, our friends threw themselves down 
on the ground beneath their grateful shade, and in five 
minutes, in spite of the heat and their thirst, so great 
was their exhaustion, all were sound asleep. There was 
no need of keeping guard. Not another living thing 
was in sight on the desert, except a few crows and other 
carrion birds that floated high above the shimmering 
heat, waiting for the emigrants to pass on and leave 
their dead behind them. 

Not until five o’clock in the afternoon, when the 
scorching heat of the sun had lessened, was the word 
given to make ready to continue the journey. Then they 
found three more of their oxen and one of the horses 
unable to rise, and in grim mercy they shot the poor 
beasts to end their misery. The carrion birds were 
certain to have a rich feast. 

This left them but two yokes of hungry, thirsty, 
worn-out oxen to each waggon. 

“Them waggins must be light’ed,” Jud Jimpson 
said, his eyes on the gaunt oxen that looked hardly 
able to support their own weight. “ Them critters 
can’t do much more than drag themselves over this 
rough trail.” 

Accordingly, a little pile of precious goods was made 

[364] 


The Cry in the Desert 

there on the desert sands, and left with sad forebodings 
of what was yet to come. 

“ It seems almost wicked to leave them things here 
after we have carried them so far and through so many 
troubles,” Mildred said, the tears in her eyes, as our 
little party again began its weary tramp. “ I don’t 
think any amount of gold can ever repay us for such 
sufferings. Look at Beauty. She don’t act as if she could 
stand it to go much farther without plenty of food 
and water, and I heard papa say that there wasn’t 
enough water left to give the animals more than one 
more drink, and the grass is nearly all gone, and — and 
I can’t do anything for Beauty, not even to save her 
life, and I know by the way she looks at me that she 
feels as if I ought to get her something to eat and to 
drink, and I can’t,” and the poor girl’s voice choked. 

“ Cheer up, little one,” and Big Tom Rawlins, near 
whom the children were walking, laid one of his great 
hands softly on the curls on Mildred’s head. “ We’ll 
be across this desert in a short time now, and where 
there’s grass and water a-plenty, and then there’ll be 
only the mountains between us and the gold of Cali- 
fornia. Never fear. Beauty is as tough as hickory, and 
will pull through all right — Hello! See what luck 
we’re in by the side of those poor fellows I ” and he 
pointed to an abandoned waggon that stood directly 
in the trail a little way ahead of them, and which had 
been hidden from view by a ridge of rocks over which 
they were now passing. 

For a minute Ray and Arthur and Mildred stared at 
the waggon, their senses dulled by heat and thirst and 
fatigue, and then the three uttered an exclamation al- 
most in the same breath, and Ray shouted: “That’s 

[365 1 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the gambler’s waggon ! That’s the waggon of Slim 
George, the gambler I I’d know it anywhere by the big 
patch on the side of the cover.” 

“ Well, if it’s the Sinful Four that’s having such 
hard luck. I’m not feeling so tremendously bad over 
it,” Tom Rawlins declared. “ Not that I’d want any 
mortal to perish in this God-forsaken hole, but a con- 
siderable lot of suffering won’t do that gang any harm.” 

By this time they had reached the waggon, and a 
halt was made to see if Ray’s assertion could be verified. 

On the ground about the waggon were scattered 
various articles, that had evidently been taken from the 
waggon for the purpose of packing them on the two 
mules, and then discarded for want of room. 

“ Dat am Massah Tom Pike’s ol’ ca’petbag fo’ sho’ I 
I done know, ’cause I’s toted it ’bout er t’ousan’ millyun 
miles,” and Scoot made a dive for one of those old- 
fashioned hand-bags, usually called carpetbags, that 
were so common in those days, which lay wide open in 
the dust by the side of the waggon. “ An’ h’ar am his 
ol’ Sunday-go-to-meetin’ hat,” and the Ijttle black hands 
jerked out of the bag an old and very much battered 
plug hat, a relic of the better days Tom Pike had doubt- 
less seen. “ I done know dat hat like I does my own 
face. Massah Tom Pike was a bo’ned gemmen, ’deed 
he was, down in ol’ Kentuck. I corned ob a good fam- 
ily,” and the little black form straightened up proudly. 

“ I reckon you did. Scoot,” Mr. Judson laughed. 
“ But now that we’ve settled that the waggon belonged 
to the Sinful Four, we must be getting on,” and his 
troubled eyes turned to the west. “ I hope we don’t 
come upon that bunch of scoundrels in this desert, when 
they’re driven desperate by their needs. They’d be 
[366] 


The Cry in the Desert 

worse than hungry tigers,” he said in a lower voice 
to Jud Jimpson, who walked by his side as the journey 
was resumed. 

“ If we do I calculate we’ll be able tew ’tend tew 
’em,” Jud answered grimly. “ ’Tain’t them rascals that 
I’m ’feard of. We’ve,” and he lowered his voice so that 
the women and children could not hear him, “ got tew 
hit water an’ grass afore sunup tew-morrow or we’ll 
lose every critter we’ve got. More’n half th’ water has 
leaked out,” and his bronzed face whitened. “ If we’d 
keep up our own strength an’ senses, we can’t spare th’ 
animals more’n another swallow, an’ they’re pretty 
nigh goners now.” 

For a time the two men walked on in gloomy silence, 
their hearts too heavy for speech. Each was thinking 
of his dear ones, and the horror of what might happen 
if their animals should give out and they should be- 
come stranded on the hot sands of the desert without 
water, where water was life. 

A short time before sundown the little party halted 
on the top of a sand ridge, and the three men gathered 
in a group apart from the others to consider the situa- 
tion, while Mrs. Judson and Mrs. Jimpson and the 
children flung themselves down on the sand, too tired 
to move, and watched them with anxious eyes. Re- 
member that for over twenty-four hours, with only a 
pause now and then and a rest through the hot hours 
of the day, they had been walking, not daring to add 
their weight to the burdens of the oxen and horses, 
through the heat and dust and sand of the desert, with- 
out sufficient water and food, and you will not wonder 
at their exhaustion nor at the anxiety in the eyes they 
turned toward the group of men. 

[367] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

For some five or ten minutes the three men stood 
talking together, then they carefully examined the oxen 
and horses and the water vessels, and then, after con- 
sulting together again for a few minutes, they ap- 
proached the little group of anxious watchers. 

“ WeVe been holding a council of war,” Mr. Jud- 
son said, smiling cheerfully, ‘‘ and have come to the 
conclusion that this little army is carrying altogether 
too much baggage, and that we could get along a lot 
faster if we had only one waggon to bother with, and 
so we’re going to leave Tom Rawlins’s red waggon here 
on the top of this sand ridge for a roosting place for 
the crows and a den for the coyotes, and go on with 
the one waggon. Now everybody perk up, for I reckon 
we’re almost ’cross this tarnal desert. Seems like I could 
smell water when I turn my nose to the west. And with 
only one waggon for the oxen to drag, we’ll get on 
like a house afire.” 

The remaining four yokes of oxen were now all 
hitched to the Judson waggon, a few necessary goods 
from the abandoned waggon transferred to it, another 
little pile made on the sand of the things that could 
be spared under the stress of this dire necessity, a little 
water drank and given to each of the animals, and 
then the journey was resumed. No one looked back 
toward the abandoned waggon as they moved slowly 
on toward the west. No one had the heart to look 
back. 

The three men strode along by the sides of the oxen ; 
Mrs. Jimpson and her children and Mrs. Judson rode 
in the waggon, unable to walk farther; Mildred sat on 
the back of Beauty, so exhausted that she could hardly 
hold herself erect in the saddle ; Scoot clung to the bony 
[368] 


The Cry in the Desert 

back of Turpentine, too tired even to roll his eyes; but 
Ray and Arthur still pluckily walked by the sides of 
Getthere and Black Duke, although their feet felt like 
twenty-pound chunks of lead, and there was an ache 
in almost every bone in their bodies. 

“ Tough, isn’t it. Art? ” Ray said, as the two boys 
plodded along side by side through the sand. “ My legs 
feel as if they had hunks of lead fastened to them in 
place of feet, but,” and he glanced anxiously toward 
Getthere, whose drooping head and gaunt, panting 
flanks told of his suffering from thirst and exhaustion, 
“ we’ve just got to walk as long as our legs will move, 
or our horses will never pull through, and — and I’d 
gladly walk both legs off to save Getthere. It’s the lack 
of water that makes them so weak. A horse can’t stand 
such heat as this without plenty of water, and now 
there is not another drop to give them I We’ve just 
got to walk as long as we can keep on our feet, and 
then, if we should give out, you’ll do your best to 
pull us through, won’t you, old boy? ” and Ray threw 
one arm affectionately around the lowered neck of 
Getthere, and the horse, as if understanding his young 
master’s words, nickered and rubbed his nose against 
his side. 

“ I know,” Arthur replied bravely, and Black 
Duke acts as if he knew, too. But I really didn’t im- 
agine we’d have to go through anything like this when 
we started. I did not suppose there was- such a hot, 
dusty, desolate, dismal, dreary, worthless, abominable, 
miserable, God-forsaken waste of country in all the 
world,” and he glared about him at the hot sand and 
hot rocks and red-hot skies. “ Jud was certainly right 
when he declared that this would be no Sunday-school 

[369] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

picnic excursion. And/’ and he lowered his voice so 
that Mildred, who rode near, could not hear, “ I am 
afraid that the worst is yet to come. I know that we 
would not have left Tom’s waggon if things did not 
look mighty blue. The oxen are nearly tuckered, and if 
they give out before we reach water and grass, then 
we’ll have to pack things on our own and the horses’ 
backs and hoof it, and think of what that would mean 
to the women folks and the children, and — and to Mil- 
dred. Poor kid, she can hardly sit on Beauty’s back 
now. That’s why we must walk and save the horses all 
we can — so the women and the little ones can ride on 
them if the oxen give out. Look, there’s another lot of 
abandoned stuff, and I’ll bet it was left by the Sinful 
Four,” and Arthur pointed to where a number of bun- 
dles, a little pile of beans, a couple of chunks of dried 
meat, a small sack of flour, and various other articles 
lay scattered on the ground — ominous signs of the des- 
perate need of the unfortunate emigrants ahead of 
them. 

As they passed these melancholy evidences of mis- 
fortune, Mr. Judson stooped and picked up a small 
book that had been laid reverently by the side of 
a huge rock, as if for protection. It was a Bible, 
and on the fly-leaf he read, written in the delicate hand 
of a woman: 

“ To my beloved son, Thomas Pike.” 

Mr. Judson reverently replaced the book by the side 
of the rock, and left it there. 

The sun went down, the moon came up, and the stars 
came out, and still on plodded our weary emigrants. 
All were now suffering violently from thirst, and the 
oxen were beginning to show signs of great distress, 

[370] 


The Cry in the Desert 

lowing and swinging their heads from side to side and 
switching their tails, but still struggling faithfully on, 
as if they understood how much depended on their 
keeping their courage and strength. 

About nine o’clock a stop of half an hour was made 
to give all a rest, and a small cupful of the precious 
water was given to each to drink, but there was none 
to spare for the suffering oxen and horses. Not over 
three gallons of water were now left, and there were 
fourteen human beings to be kept alive — less than 
two pints for each — and no one knew how much 
farther they would have to go before water was 
found. 

“ This doesn’t seem real at all,” Arthur said, as our 
little party again began their weary march over the 
desolate waste. “ It Is all like some horrible nightmare 
from which we will presently awake, and ” 

“ Find ourselves on the grass-covered banks of a 
gurgling stream of pure Ice-cold water, I hope,” Inter- 
rupted Ray. “ My, I never imagined water was such a 
precious thing before! ” 

“ But really,” continued Arthur, “ I have to pinch 
myself to convince myself that this Is really me. Every- 
thing is so strange and silent and desolate and unreal 
and ghostly on this moonlit desert, over which we are 
passing like so many phantoms. Why, even the plug — 
plug — plug of our horses’ hoofs In the loose sand has 
a ghostly sound In this awful stillness ” 

“Ugh! Ugh!” broke In Ray. “Let up. You are 
giving me the shivers — O-o-h-h-h! What was that? 
Did you hear that? ” and he gripped Arthur hard by 
the shoulders, while every one, even the oxen and 
horses, stood stock-still and listened, half doubting 

[371] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

whether or not they had really heard that dread sound 
that had come out of the silence of the night and the 
desert in front of them. 

For a minute the silence was absolute, and then again 
came that weird cry wailing through the desert. 

“GhostiesI Ghosties! ” shuddered Scoot, flinging 
both arms around Turpentine’s neck and clinging there 
with might and main. “ I done knowed we was gettin’ 
into some scan’lous land. Oh, Lordyl Lordy! Dey’s 
after dis niggah fo’ sho’,” and sliding off Turpentine’s 
back as the strange cry again came moaning through 
the night. Scoot made a mad dive for the back end of 
the waggon, and vanished from sight. 

“ I’m going to find out what that cry means,” and 
Mr. Judson gripped his rifle. “ Sounds to me like a 
human being in mortal distress,” and he started toward 
a pile of rocks that loomed up shadowy in the moon- 
light a few rods to the right of the trail, whence the 
weird sound had come. 

“ I’ll go with you,” and Big Tom Rawlins stepped 
to the side of Mr. Judson, and the two men, holding 
their rifles ready for instant use, walked slowly toward 
the pile of rocks. 

They reached the rocks, stopped, and then hurried 
forward and bent over something lying on the ground. 
A moment later both men slowly straightened up and 
started back toward the waggon, bearing between them 
the moaning body of a man. 

“ Strike a light and light the lantern,” Mr. Judson 
called. “ I reckon the poor fellow’s hurt mortal bad.” 

In a few minutes more the man was lying on the 
ground by the side of the waggon, and Mrs. Judson 
was bending anxiously over him, while Mr. Judson held 

[372 ] 


The Cry in the Desert 

the lantern and the rest gathered around in a circle, 
their faces showing white and troubled in the dim light 
of the lantern. 

The man had become unconscious while being borne 
to the waggon, and now lay motionless, outstretched 
on the ground, his face staring upward into the deep 
mystery of the starlit skies. 

“He has been shot!” and Mrs. Judson lifted a 
white, horror-stricken face to her husband’s, as she 
pointed to the left breast of the wounded man, where 
the flannel shirt was soaked red with blood. “ And I 
fear he is dying from his wound and thirst. Who is 
he, Jed? ” and the eyes that questioned her husband’s 
were filled with apprehension. 

“ Tom Pike,” Mr. Judson answered slowly. “ Tom 
Pike, Scoot’s old master. Shot and left to die alone on 
this desert by his comrades. God have mercy on their 
wicked souls ! ” he added solemnly. 

The man moved uneasily, opened his eyes, glared 
blankly up at the circle of faces surrounding him, and 
weakly moaned: “Water! Water! ” 

Mrs. Judson glanced at her husband, and without a 
word he handed the lantern to Tom Rawlins, and 
going to the waggon, returned with a quart tin cup full 
of the precious water, and bending over Tom Pike, 
placed the cup to his lips. Tom Pike eagerly seized the 
cup with both hands and pressed it tightly to his parched 
mouth, and drank in great swallows until the last drop 
had been drained from the cup. Then his eyes slowly 
travelled around the circle grouped about him until 
they rested on the face of Mr. Judson, and here they 
remained for a minute or more, staring questioningly 
into the face looking down into his. 

[373 ] 


The "Boy Forty-Niners 

“ Judson? You are Judson? ” he asked, the white in 
his cheeks reddening faintly. 

“ Yes, yes, my name is Judson,” Mr. Judson replied. 
“You are hurt. Let us get at the wound.” 

“ No use. No use. Fm done for,” and he feebly 
waved Mr. Judson back. “ Bud Wilkes done it, and 
left me to die alone and helpless on this accursed desert ! 
Judson ! Judson ! ” and he looked intently at the man 
before him. “ By heaven, Fll do it, if it takes the last 
breath Fve got ! ” and the fire came into his eyes, even 
as the glow to a dying coal when it is blown upon. 
“ Judson, send these others away. I have something 
to say to you alone,” and he struggled to raise himself 
up on his elbows to a sitting posture. 

“ Quiet, quiet,” and Mr. Judson pressed him gently 
back. “ I am here, right by your side,” and he knelt by 
the side of the wounded man and motioned to the 
others to fall back. “ Now, what would you say to me? 
The others have gone. You must speak quick, for I fear 
your time is short.” 

“ Judson,” and the dying man caught tight hold of 
Mr. Judson’s hand and gripped it convulsively, “ Slim 
George and Bud and Mike are planning to rob you of 
that twenty-five thousand dollars you’ve got stowed 
away somewhere in your waggon before you get to the 
gold mines.” 

Mr. Judson started violently and bent closer. 

“ Slim George put us onto the game,” continued 
Tom Pike, his breath beginning to shorten and the 
perspiration coming out In beads on his forehead. “ He 
— he followed you clear from the bank where you 
cashed the money, and the reason we didn’t do you 
sooner was because we were all bound for California, 

[374] 


The Cry in the Desert 

and thought it would be safer to wait until you were 
almost there. Then you somehow gave us the slip at 
Salt Lake City and got away without our knowing it, 
and weVe been killing the mules ever since trying to 
catch up with you. And the boys still think you’re 
ahead,” he chuckled. “ That’s why we were so anxious 
to get across this infernal desert that we didn’t prepare 
proper, and ” 

He choked violently, and a stream of blood gushed 
from his mouth and his face became ghastly white and 
he struggled to a sitting posture. 

“ Bud, Bud Wilkes I ” and he shook a clenched fist. 
“ Bud, Bud-d Wilkes, if-f— if-f I— I—” and he fell 
back dead. 


[ 375 ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 


ROBBED 

H alf an hour later our friends continued on 
their way, leaving behind them a new-made 
grave by the side of that lonely pile of rocks 
in that desolate waste. No graved headstone marked 
the spot, only a board thrust into the ground at the 
head of the grave, and on the board this epitaph, rudely 
printed with tar : 


THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR IS HARD; BUT HIS 
END IS HARDER. 

“ I didn’t suppose any human being could be so 
wicked,” Ray said, as they tramped wearily on away 
from that lonely grave, “as to leave a wounded com- 
panion to die like that alone on this horrible desert. It 
would have been more merciful to have killed him,” 
and he shuddered at the thought of what agonies the 
dying man must have suffered lying there alone in the 
desert. 

“ It was terrible,” Arthur agreed. “ I wonder what 
has become of his companions. They must have been in 
fearful straits to do a thing like that. Even worse than 
we are. Oh, if this desert would only end I If it would 

[ 376 1 


Robbed 

only end!” he moaned. “I can’t, I just can’t walk 
much longer. And — and I’m so dry that I feel as if 
I’d crack open — Look, look at Mildred ! ” he cried in 
alarm. “ She’s — she’s falling from her horse ! ” and 
dropping the rein of Black Duke, he sprang to the side 
of Beauty just as Mildred, with a deathly white face, 
reeled in her saddle, and caught her in his arms as 
she fell. 

Poor girl, she had fainted from exhaustion and 
thirst. 

Mr. Judson saw her fall, and with a cry of agony 
tore her from Arthur’s arms and ran with her to the 
waggon. 

“ Water I Water! Get a cup of water, quick. Cat! ” 
he called to Mrs. Judson, who had sprung up from her 
seat and stood white and trembling, her eyes on Mil- 
dred’s unconscious form. “ She’s only fainted. Don’t 
be scart, she’s only fainted.” 

With trembling hands Mrs. Judson seized a cup and 
filled it with water and hurried to where Mr. Judson 
knelt with Mildred in his arms by the side of the wag- 
gon. 

“ She’s only fainted. She’s only fainted,” he repeated. 
“ Now, don’t get scart. Cat. She’s only fainted, and 
the water’ll bring her to in a jiffy,” and he caught the 
cup from Mrs. Judson’s hand and held it to Mildred’s 
lips and forced some of the life-giving fluid down her 
parched throat, and wetting her handkerchief, laid it 
on her forehead. 

Mildred opened her eyes and smiled weakly up into 
her father’s face and started to speak, but Mr. Judson 
thrust the cup of water between her lips and forced her 
to drink instead. 


,[ 377 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ There, there, don’t say nothing,” he said sooth- 
ingly. “ Father understands It all. Just drink.” 

The water had a wonderfully reviving effect, and In 
a few minutes Mildred was able to help herself again, 
but Mr. Judson now Insisted that she ride In the wag- 
gon with her mother. 

A couple of miles farther on and our friends passed 
the dead body of a mule, stretched out on the sand by 
the side of the trail. 

“The way of the transgressor Is hard; but his end 
Is harder,” Mr. Judson said grimly. “ And them scoun- 
drels must be getting pretty nigh the end. I’ll bet that’s 
the other mule,” and he pointed to where a dark ob- 
ject showed In the moonlight, lying by the side of the 
trail a few rods ahead. 

And the other mule It proved to be. 

“ Don’t look as if he’d been dead over a couple of 
hours,” Jud JImpson declared, as he paused for a min- 
ute by the side of the body of the mule. “ Shouldn’t 
wonder if we corned upon th’ skunks themselves Inside 
of an hour. They must be ’bout on their last pins.” 

For a long time now the distress and weakness of the 
oxen had been gradually growing greater, and they 
had been obliged to stop three or four times to help 
a fallen ox to his feet and to give them all a few min- 
utes’ rest; but the night was fast wearing away and 
the end of the desert must be near, for, according to 
all reports. It was not over eighty-five miles across, and 
they must have travelled seventy miles or more of that 
distance. 

By this time, too, our friends were suffering fearfully 
from thirst, but they dared not touch the little water 
that remained — not yet. It was all that stood between 

[37B] 


Robbed 

them and a horrible death, and must be treasured for 
the last desperate emergency. 

Just at sunrise they came to where the trail crossed 
over a steep ridge of rocks, and at the foot of this 
ascent they found three rifles, three revolvers, a little 
pile of ammunition, three heavy hunting-knives, and 
three little bundles done up in red handkerchiefs — all 
thrown together by the side of the trail. 

“ I reckon that means the end,” and Mr. Judson’s 
stern face hardened. “ A man don’t throw away his 
guns in this country as long as he’s got strength to carry 
them. Shouldn’t wonder if we found the men them- 
selves on the top of the ridge,” and he glanced appre- 
hensively up to where a pile of rocks stood at the very 
top of the ridge a half a mile away. “This climb is going 
to be killing on the oxen,” and he turned his eyes anx- 
iously on the poor beasts that stood with feet braced 
apart and heads hanging low, seemingly hardly able to 
hold up the yokes around their necks. 

Here the animals were given half an hour’s rest, and 
our friends moistened their parched lips and throats 
with a swallow of the treasured water, and then the 
ascent was begun. Not for over five minutes at a time 
could the weakened animals pull the waggon through 
the heavy sand up the incline, but the faithful beasts 
did their best, struggling until they dropped in their 
yokes, and at last the top was reached. But they could 
go no farther. Even the inexperienced eyes of Ray and 
Arthur saw that it would be useless to attempt to have 
them pull the waggon or even carry their own weight 
farther until they had been invigorated with water, and 
there was not a drop of water to give them! 

The oxen had stopped on a level plot of ground 

[379 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

some five rods from the summit of the ridge,- but Ray 
and Arthur, anxious to see what lay beyond, had hur- 
ried on to the top. The moment they reached the sum- 
mit both boys whirled about in great excitement and 
began waving their arms around their heads like wind- 
mills gone mad. 

“Water! Water! Hurrah! Water!” they yelled. 
“A whole riverful of water! Hurrah!” 

The three men dropped their ox-whips and started 
on the run for a sight of the blessed water, followed 
by the two women and the children, as fast as their 
stiffened legs could carry them, and this is what they 
saw, or seemed to see, when the ridge-top was reached. 
Below them, apparently not more than a mile away, 
glistening in the morning sunlight, a blue stream of 
water wound its way through scattered groves of trees 
and between grass-covered banks, and on its pleasant 
shores groups of emigrants were encamped, their white- 
topped waggons and tents showing plainly. 

For a minute the three men stared at the delightful 
scene in silent amazement. They knew that, according 
to all reports, there should be no such a stream of water 
there, but there it was, so clear and distinct that even 
their experienced eyes were deceived for an instant, and 
then, as a wave-like tremor swept over the beautiful 
landscape and the river and trees and white-topped wag- 
gons quivered and blurred, they understood. Their eyes 
were looking upon one of those marvellous illusions of 
nature — a mirage. Many times while crossing the plains 
they had witnessed this wonderful phenomenon, but 
never before had one looked as real and natural as did 
this one, when their eyes first caught sight of it. 

The disappointment of all was overwhelming when 
[380] 


Robbed 

they understood that what they were looking upon was 
only a picture in the air. The two women dropped on 
the ground where they stood and burst into tears, and 
there were tears in the eyes of even the men as they 
turned their faces away from the tempting scene, but 
upon no one did the illusion have such an astounding 
effect as upon Scoot. 

‘‘ Watahl Watah! Golly, dar am watah! ’’ he yelled 
the moment he caught sight of the blue river. “ Ts 
gwine to hab some ob dat watah mighty sudden. Ts 
’most bus-cated wid dryness. Watahl Watah!” and 
down the ridge he started as fast as his little black legs 
could take him, paying not the slightest heed to Mr. 
Judson’s commands to come back, his eyes seeing only 
the blue waters of the river. Suddenly, when he was 
about half-way down the ridge, a quick shifting of the 
strata of air caused the river scene to vanish instantane- 
ously, leaving nothing but the bare, sandy, rock-strewn 
desert in its place. 

Scoot stopped stock-still, rubbed his eyes, stared, 
scratched his head, pinched one leg, then the other, 
stared, and then turning, came slowly back up the ridge, 
his eyes almost bulging out of his head. 

“ Whar am dat ribber an’ dem trees an’ waggins 
done gone?” he asked, marching straight up to Mr. 
Judson. 

“ There were no rivers nor trees nor waggons there, 
Scoot. ’Twas only a picture, a picture in the air,” and 
Mr. Judson laid a hand sympathetically on the woolly 
head. 

“No ribber, no trees, no waggins? Only ghosties! 
An’ I done seed dem wid mah two eyes ! — Golly 1 what 
am dat? Mo’ ghosties?” and Scoot stood transfixed 

[381 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

with horror, one black finger pointing toward the pile 
of rocks that stood on the summit of the ridge a few 
rods to the right of the trail, and his bulging eyes 
staring at a faceless head that swayed back and forth 
beneath a broad-brimmed hat above one of the rocks. 

For an instant Mr. Judson’s heart almost stopped 
beating at the sight of that uncanny thing swaying 
back and forth above the rock, and then with an ex- 
clamation of horror he started on the run for the rocks, 
followed by Ray and Arthur and Jud Jimpson and 
Tom Rawlins, while the others watched the dread 
object with white, apprehensive faces. 

“ Jee-my'mee, it’s a man’s leg with a hat on the 
foot!” Ray exclaimed the moment he came near 
enough to have a clear view of the waving thing. 
“Who can it be? The — the Sinful Four!” and his 
face whitened. 

Behind the rock lay three men, all huddled together, 
and apparently so weak they could not sit up, while 
their swollen lips and tongues and parched throats 
seemed unable to utter a sound. The leg of one of 
them, with his hat on the foot, had been the odd 
signal of distress that had given Scoot such a fright. 

It needed but a glance to tell our friends that they 
were looking down on all that was left of the Sinful 
Four. Bud Wilkes lay with closed eyes, breathing heav- 
ily and apparently unconscious; Mike was mumbling 
incoherently to himself; Slim George alone seemed in 
his right senses, and it was his leg that had waved 
the signal of distress. 

Mr. Judson looked at Tom Rawlins and Jud Jimp- 
son, and Jud Jimpson and Tom Rawlins looked at Mr. 
Judson and at each other. 

[382] 


Robbed 

“ I wouldn’t leave a dog to die like that,” Jud Jimp- 
son said. 

“ ’Twouldn’t be Christian,” and the hard look went 
out of Tom Rawlins’s eyes. 

“ Get the water,” and Mr. Judson turned a bit sharp- 
ly to Ray and Arthur. “ We’re not heathens yet. Bring 
the water and a cup, quick.” 

In three minutes Ray and Arthur were back with the 
water, a scant two gallons, but every drop they pos- 
sessed, and there was not one of them whose throat 
and lips were not swollen and parched with thirst, and 
yet no one dissented when Mr. Judson took the water 
and knelt by the side of the thirst-stricken men and 
began pouring the precious fluid down their burning 
throats. 

“ I reckon we’d better get the tent up and camp here 
until the day grows cool,” and Mr. Judson looked up 
to Tom Rawlins and Jud Jimpson. “ Cat and I’ll look 
after these fellows if you’ll see to the camping.” 

“ Sartain,” responded Jud Jimpson. “ ’Twill do th’ 
critters good tew rest here a spell,” and the two men 
hurried away to unyoke the oxen and pitch the tents, 
both knowing well that the oxen could go no farther 
and that their camping there was not a matter of choice, 
but of necessity. 

Not ten minutes after they were unyoked two of the 
oxen were dead, and the others were so weak that they 
had fallen in their tracks and lay on the hot sand moan- 
ing and lowing in the greatest distress. 

As soon as the tents were pitched the three men were 
carefully borne to one of them, and made as comfort- 
able as possible under its shelter. All were conscious 
now, and fast regaining their strength, but it had taken 

[ 383 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

a gallon of the precious water to bring about this pleas- 
ing result, and now little more than a gallon remained 
— and there were seventeen thirsty throats to supply 
and the oxen had given out and no one knew when 
more water would be found. 

“ I calculate that ridge of rocks over yonder,” and 
Jud Jimpson pointed to a rocky ridge some five miles 
distant, as the three men stood holding council together 
on the summit of the pile of rocks, “ is th’ divide 
atween God’s land an’ this tarnal desert, accordin’ tew 
th’ description of th’ trail that old trapper in Salt Lake 
City gives me, an’ if so it be, there’s plenty of good 
water an’ grass not more’n a couple of miles beyond. 
But,” and his face lengthened, “ them oxen can’t make 
another rod without a good drink of water, an’ th’ 
women folks an’ yunks are tew tuckered tew walk, an’ 
th’ bosses can’t carry them all, an’ thar’s them skunks 
in that tent,” and his lips tightened. “ ’Twouldn’t be 
human tew leave them. So I reckon it’s lip tew sum on 
us tew take th’ bosses an’ water-bags an’ git back with 
sum of that water as quick as th’ Almighty will let 
us. Leastwise that’s th’ only thing I can see for us 
tew do.” 

There was no disputing the wisdom of Jud Jimpson’s 
conclusion, and it was decided to act upon it immedi- 
ately, for time was life now, when only a gallon of 
water stood between seventeen thirsty people and a 
frightful death. Accordingly, the six horses — it will be 
remembered that there were six horses still left — were 
made ready, and Mr. Judson and Jud Jimpson (Tom 
Rawlins had been barred on account of his great 
weight) mounted two of them, and leading the others, 
set out with many cheering promises of a speedy return 

[384] 


Robbed 

with an abundance of water, toward the rocky ridge 
beyond which lay life or death for all of them. 

It was now, perhaps, a couple of hours after sunrise, 
and the heat of the sun was beginning to be oppressive, 
but our friends did not seek the shelter of the tent and 
waggon until the little party slowly toiling across the 
desert had become a black spot In the distance, creep- 
ing nearer and nearer to the ridge of rocks, and finally 
had vanished from sight 

“ Better get under the shelter of the tent and wag- 
gon,” Tom Rawlins said, rising when even the black 
spot was no longer visible. “ I’m going to have a look 
at that Sinful Trio again, and I reckon we’d all better 
have a swallow or two of water,” and he strode away 
toward the tent In which the three men had been left. 

The others took his advice and returned to the grate- 
ful shade of the tent, all except Ray and Arthur, who 
went with him to have a look at Slim George and his 
companions. 

The three men apparently had hardly moved. They 
lay side by side on the sand, and judging from their 
looks and acts were as helpless as three babes. On the 
ground near them, but out of reach of their hands, 
stood a gallon jug that had been left, nearly filled with 
water. In the tent, for it was thought that the men 
were too weak to be able to get to It. 

The moment Tom and the two boys entered the tent 
the three rascals began weakly begging for water and 
for something to eat, claiming that they had not had 
a mouthful of food for two days. If they recognised 
Tom Rawlins and the boys they showed no signs of 
doing so. 

“ We can get you something to eat, I reckon,” Tom 

[385] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

Rawlins replied. “ But water is a mighty scarce article 
with us just now, and we can’t give you more’n a swal- 
low or two at a time, not until Jud and Jed gets back. 
They’ve taken the horses and gone after water. You 
boys,” and he turned to Ray and Arthur, “ go and ask 
Mrs. Judson to fix up something for them to eat. I’ll 
give them a swallow or two of water,” and he picked 
up the jug to pour a little of the water into the cup 
that stood by its side, as Ray and Arthur hurried out 
of the tent for the food. “ Hi-ho ! I thought this jug 
was nearly full! ” and he turned suspiciously to the 
three men, to find himself looking into the barrels of 
three revolvers levelled at his head. 

“ Hands up and not a yep, or we shoot to kill,” Slim 
George said, smiling tauntingly. “ This time I hold the 
right card, and I’m not going to discard it. Now, just 
tie those big arms and legs of his so they won’t be 
getting into mischief. Bud. Mike and I’ll see that he 
behaves himself,” and the eyes above the pistol barrel 
gleamed significantly. 

Tom Rawlins had been so completely taken by sur- 
prise that he was absolutely at the mercy of the three 
men, and it needed but a glance into their glinting eyes 
and cruel faces to tell him that they would not hesitate 
an instant to shoot if he gave them the slightest reason 
for doing so, consequently he did the only thing a 
sensible man could do — held up his hands and kept 
still. 

Bud Wilkes at once lowered his revolver, picked up 
a long piece of rope that he had been sitting on, and 
in two minutes Tom Rawlins’s arms and legs were so 
securely bound that even his great strength was 
helpless. 


[386] 


Robbed 

“ Thought we were as weak as little babies, didn’t 
you?” taunted Slim George during this trussing-up 
process. “ Well, to tell you the truth, we had about 
given up all hopes and had laid down behind the rock 
to die like dogs, when we saw you coming up the ridge 
and laid our plans accordingly. Great scheme, wasn’t 
it? ” and he smiled exultingly. “ You bit like a lot of 
suckers. Gave us plenty of water. That was what we 
needed most. Even left a jugful in the tent for us 
to help ourselves, and then stood like a lot of numb- 
skulls and watched two of your men ride away while 
we crept out of the tent and armed ourselves with your 
own guns, and even found a rope with which to tie 
you. Smart lot of fellows you are to let three unarmed 
men, so weak they could hardly stand, capture your 
whole outfit — women, kids, and all — aren’t you?” 
and he chuckled vauntingly. “ That’s right. Stop up 
his mouth,” and he nodded approvingly to Bud Wilkes, 
who had thrust a wad of cloth into the captured man’s 
mouth and securely fastened it there. “We don’t want 
none of his chin music.” 

“ There, I calculate that’ll even up matters a little 
bit betwixt us two,” and Bud Wilkes gave his helpless 
captive a brutal kick, and glared vindictively down into 
his face; “ and the job ain’t finished yet, not by a jug- 
ful of misery. I’ll ” 

“ Quick, th’ kids are cornin’ ! ” softly called Mike 
from a slit in the tent, where he had been keeping a 
lookout for the two boys ever since his services were 
no longer needed in guarding Tom Rawlins. 

Bud Wilkes clubbed his heavy revolver and quickly 
stepped to one side of the tent-opening; Slim George 
and Mike, with equal alacrity, stationed themselves on 

[387] 


The Boy Forty-Niners | 

the other side, their revolvers held ready to strike ; and 
thus, hardly breathing, the three men awaited the com- 
ing of the two unsuspecting boys. 

Ray was the first to push aside the tent-flap and I 
entered bearing in his hand a large tin plate piled with 
cold beans, with a few slices of dried buffalo meat, and 
close behind him came Arthur, carrying a couple of 
loaves of bread. Ray took a step inside before he caught 
sight of Tom Rawlins, bound and gagged, stopped in 
utter amazement, and just as the yell of warning was 
parting his lips, the heavy butt of Bud Wilkes’s re- 
volver struck his head and he went down without utter- 
ing a sound, the plate of food falling from his hands. 
At the same instant Arthur, who was just entering the 
tent, was struck on the head by Slim George’s revolver 
and fell unconscious, without even knowing what had 
struck him. 

“ I call this a slick job,” Bud Wilkes said, grinning 
with satisfaction, as he assisted in binding and gagging 
the two unconscious boys. “ Now for the women folks 
and the little kids, and then for that twenty-five thou- 
sand dollars that we’ve been so long waiting for,” and 
his face flushed and his eyes began to glow covetously. 

As soon as the two boys were securely bound and 
gagged, the three scoundrels, their revolvers in their 
hands, stepped boldly out of the tent. They had only 
women to deal with now, and they were not afraid. 
No one was in sight. All were sheltering themselves 
from the hot sun under the tent, except Scoot, who lay, 
like a watch-dog, curled up asleep under the waggon. 

“ Every last one of them corralled in that tent,” 
Slim George said with a grin. “ Bud, you just step to 
the tent-opening and poke in your revolver and hold 

[388] 


Robbed 

them there, while Mike and I go through the waggon 
for that money-chest.” 

“ Sure and I’ll hold them, tight as a vise. I’ll just fire 
a shot over their heads to let them know I’m loaded 
and to see them squirm,” and Bud Wilkes laughed. 
“ But no monkey work about that money,” and he 
scowled. “ Remember we’re to divvy even,” and he 
strode away toward the tent where the women and 
the children lay all unsuspicious of trouble, and whence 
a pistol shot a few minutes later told how well he was 
keeping his word. 

Slim George and Mike hurried to the waggon, and 
at once began an exciting search for the money, but so 
well had Mr. Judson concealed its hiding-place, that 
after they had apparently searched the waggon and 
everything it contained from top to bottom, they had 
not found a single dollar. 

“ Well, if I can’t find the money I can knock their 
blamed old waggon into kindling wood,” and Slim 
George, in a rage, picked up an axe that lay on the 
bottom of the waggon-box and struck a furious blow 
with it at the bottom of the box — as it chanced, directly 
over the secret receptacle. 

The axe went through the board with a crash, and 
Slim George stared through the opening thus made for 
a moment, and then, with a yell of triumph, thrust 
both hands down into it and pulled out the money- 
chest. 

“We’ve got it! We’ve got it! ” yelled Mike, danc- 
ing wildly around Slim George, who had jumped from 
the waggon to the ground with the chest held tightly 
in his two hands. 

“ Hurrah ! ” and with a terrible threat that he would 

[389] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

kill the first one to stick a head out of the tent, Bud 
Wilkes deserted his post on the run, and in another 
minute the three men were squatted on the ground 
around the money-chest trying to open it, and so in- 
tently were their eyes fixed on the chest that not one 
of them saw the little black form of Scoot, who had 
been awakened by the crash of the axe through the 
boards above his head, crawl swiftly from under the 
waggon and dart away toward the tent where Ray and 
Arthur and Big Tom Rawlins lay tightly bound and 
gagged, and which had been placed some ten rods from 
the other tent and on the opposite side of the waggon 
from it. 

“ Get the axe and smash it in ! ” Bud Wilkes urged 
impatiently, after they had tried in vain for a couple 
of minutes to open the chest. 

Mike quickly brought the axe, and with one blow 
burst open the cover, and all of Mr. Judson’s wealth 
lay before them in glittering coins of gold. 

The three scoundrels almost bumped their heads to- 
gether in their eagerness to get their hands into the 
golden treasure, and for a few minutes could do noth- 
ing more than scoop the shining coins up in their hands 
and allow them to fall back into the chest through 
their fingers, while they listened entranced to the music 
of the chink-chink of the falling gold. 

“Count it! Count it!” Bud Wilkes cried, almost 
delirious with excitement and greed. “ I want my share 
now! I want to know how much it is! I want to feel 
It in my own hands ! Count it ! ” and gathering up all 
the coins he could hold in his two hands, he began 
feverishly counting them, placing them in little piles 
of a hundred dollars each. 

[ 390 ] 



Count it, Count it. 









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Robbed 

Slim George and Mike at once joined in the count- 
ing, and soon the sand around the chest was covered 
with little piles of gold coins. 

“ One thousand dollars! ” almost yelled Bud, as he 
bunched ten of the little gold piles together, 

“Two thousand!” and Slim George excitedly 
scooped up another handful of the coins. 

And thus the counting went on with feverish excite- 
ment, until five thousand, ten thousand, fifteen thou- 
sand, twenty thousand dollars had been counted by the 
gold-mad men, and then, all of a sudden, the flushed 
face of Slim George turned ghastly white and his lower 
jaw dropped and his eyes stared wildly past the gold, 
straight in front of him, into the muzzles of Big Tom 
Rawlins’s rifle and the rifles of Ray and Arthur, who 
stood not a dozen feet from the three scoundrels, their 
guns levelled at their heads. 

“ I reckon we’ll finish that counting,” Tom Rawlins 
said grimly. “ Hands up ! None of — ” and the red 
flame leaped viciously from his rifle, and Bud Wilkes, 
with his half-drawn revolver in his hand, half jumped 
to his feet and fell over backward, a bullet through his 
head. 

There was no need of repeating the lesson, and in 
three minutes more Slim George and Mike were se- 
curely bound. 

Naturally, Ray and Arthur and Tom Rawlins had 
been tremendously surprised at the sight of the piles 
of gold spread out on the sand before the robbers, for 
it will be remembered they knew nothing of the treas- 
ure Mr. Judson’s waggon held, but Mrs. Judson, who 
with the others had rushed out of the tent the moment 
they heard the rifle shot, soon solved the mystery, 

[391 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

and explained how Mr. Judson had concealed the gold 
in his waggon. 

“Now that accounts for the way them skunks have 
been dodging our trail ever since we left Independ- 
ence,” and Tom Rawlins’s face showed the relief he 
felt at having solved a troublesome mystery. “ They 
were after that gold.” 

A grave was dug near the pile of rocks, and the body 
of Bud Wilkes, wrapped in a blanket, lowered into it 
and covered over and left, unmarked and unmourned, 
in that lonely desert. Slim George and Mike, strongly 
bound, were carried back to the tent, and to make sure 
that they did not cause any more trouble, either one of 
the boys or Tom Rawlins remained in the tent to keep 
an eye on them. 

Fortunately, there was still a couple of quarts of 
water left in the jug, enough to give all a few swallows, 
but by noon every drop of this had been drunk, and 
our friends, with parched and swollen lips and tongues, 
were compelled to sit throughout the long hot after- 
noon waiting and hoping and praying for the speedy 
return of Mr. Judson and Jud Jimpson with an abun- 
dance of water. 

There is no more terrible suffering than that caused 
by extreme thirst on a hot desert. The lips swell and 
crack open, the tongue and throat become parched and 
swollen, the stomach burns as if it were a red-hot fur- 
nace, the skin grows dry and hot, the heart thumps 
and throbs painfully, the blood runs like molten fire 
through the veins, the skull feels like a hot boiler 
about to burst, and throughout the whole body comes 
a peculiarly appalling sensation of shrinking sinews 
and muscles and the drying of cracking bones, followed 

[392] 


Robbed 

swiftly by delirium and ending mercifully in coma and 
death. 

Such were the fast-approaching horrors that now 
threatened our little party of emigrants unless speedily 
driven back by the arrival of water, and knowing this, 
each one of my readers can imagine how anxiously the 
eyes of all kept searching the stretch of rocks and sand 
beyond the ridge, hoping for a glimpse of the return- 
ing horsemen and horses laden with what to them 
meant life — ^water. And at last, just as the sun was 
sinking like a great ball of fire in the west, Ray, who 
had stationed himself on top of the pile of rocks, caught 
sight of a little black spot moving slowly over the des- 
ert — moving in their direction. For a few minutes he 
watched it, to make sure that his eyes were not deceiv- 
ing him, his heart beating as if it would knock a hole 
through his ribs, watched it until he plainly saw that 
it was becoming larger and coming nearer, and then 
with a glad shout, “ They are coming! We are saved! 
They are coming ! ” he came tumbling down the rocks 
as if his bones and flesh were made of steel and india- 
rubber. 

An hour later, in the dusk of early night, Mr. Jud- 
son and Jud Jimpson rode into camp, the water-bags 
and vessels, tied across their horses’ backs, filled with 
water. 


[393] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 


BILL AND LIS 

J UD JIMPSON had been right in his Interpreta- 
tion of the old trapper’s Information. The desert 
ended with the rocky ridge, and not two miles 
beyond he and Mr. Judson had come to a little valley 
where they found an abundance of water and grass and 
the camps of two hunters who had just come from 
the gold mines, and of several parties of emigrants 
who were on their way to the mines. 

Naturally, Mr. Judson and Jud JImpson were greatly 
enraged when they learned of the treachery and in- 
gratitude of the three men, whose lives they had saved 
at so great a peril to their own, but there was no way 
of bringing the two remaining rascals to a fitting pun- 
ishment In these uninhabited wilds, unless our friends 
took the matter In their own hands, and this they did 
not care to do. Accordingly, It was determined to leave 
them there alone on the desert, with a little food and a 
little water, but without weapons except their hunting- 
knives, warning them that, if they ever caught them 
where there were means of bringing them to justice, 
they would have them punished. 

“ But where Is Scoot? ” Mr. Judson inquired, when 
all these matters had been explained and determined 
upon, and everybody had drunk his fill of water, 

[394] 


Bill and Lis 

Where is the hero of the hour? This is the second 
time he has saved that gold, and I want to let him 
know that Jedidiah Judson is not the man to pass over 
such a thing unnoticed. Where’s the little black tike 
gone to?” and his eyes vainly searched the group 
gathered around the water for the black face of 
Scoot. 

“ Oh, papa,” and Mildred smiled until the dimples 
came back again into her cheeks, “ didn’t I tell you that 
Scoot would be lots of help to us? And he has, hasn’t 
he?” 

“ You bet,” was Mr. Judson’s emphatic response. 
“ He’s been our little black angel. But where is the 
rascal? Scoot! Scoot! ” he yelled, standing up and look- 
ing around. 

‘‘ I’s cornin’. I’s done cornin’ immejiate. Jes’ wait till 
I done gits ’nother swaller,” and, glancing in the direc- 
tion of the voice, Mr. Judson saw Scoot a couple of 
rods away, his back against a rock, hugging a gallon 
jug of water tightly to his bosom. 

Everybody laughed. It was easy to laugh now, with 
their stomachs full of water and the cooling, life-giving 
fluid rushing to all parts of their bodies, and Scoot, 
after taking another deep drink from the jug, strug- 
gled to his feet and, still clinging to the jug of precious 
water, staggered with his burden to where Mr. Judson 
stood. 

“ Golly, dat am de bestes watah dis niggah done 
ebber did drinked. I’s ’mos’ busticated, but I’s jes’ 
gotter hab ’nother swaller,” and he again raised the 
jug to his lips. 

“ Great Scott, Scoot,” and Mr. Judson caught hold 
of the jug and jerked it from the negro boy’s hands, 

[395] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“ you’ll bust if you don’t let up on that water! You’ll 
bust and blow all into little black pieces I ” 

“ Golly, am dat so? ” and Scoot placed both hands 
on his little distended stomach, while a look of fear 
jumped into his eyes. “ She am mighty tight, ’deed she 
am,” and the look of fear deepened. “ I’s gwine to 
bust! I can feel her done gettin’ ready to bust! ” he 
wailed, holding tight on his stomach with both hands, 
and then, catching sight of some ropes that had been 
used in carrying the water, his face brightened. “ Dis 
niggah fix um,” and grabbing up one of the ropes, he 
wound it several times tightly around his belly, and 
tied it firmly. “ Dar, now I done can’t bust! Gib me 
dat jug ob watah,” and he held out his hands for 
the water. 

“ No, no, not any more now,” and, laughing, Mr. 
Judson kept a firm hold on the jug. “ Scoot,” and his 
face sobered, “ you little black rascal, you’re worth 
your weight in gold,” and Mr. Judson grabbed one 
of his black hands; “this is the second time you’ve 
saved that gold from being stolen, and Jed Judson 
won’t forget it.” 

“ And if it hadn’t been for you. Scoot, I’m sure I’d 
been dead now,” and Ray caught hold of his other 
hand and began shaking it with all his strength. 
“ You’re a black jewel. Scoot, that’s what you are.” 

“You — you blessed boy! We all owe you much 
more than we can ever repay you,” and Mrs. Judson 
threw her motherly arms around his little black body. 
“ You’ve been our good angel. Scoot May the good 
God reward you ! ” 

And now the others all crowded around the as- 
tounded little negro boy and shook his hand, and tried 

[396] 


Bill and Lis 

to tell how grateful they were to him for the part he 
had played in their rescue from the robbers. 

Scoot’s eyes rolled in the wildest astonishment from 
one face to another. Evidently he had only the faintest 
idea of what all these “ going ons ” were about, but 
he did remember what had been the result of other 
similar “ going ons,” and his face brightened. 

“ Does dis niggah done git ’nother big eat? ” he 
asked, the grin on his face broadening until it almost 
reached from ear to ear. 

Again everybody laughed, while Mr. Judson ex- 
claimed heartily: “Bless you, yes! If we ever get to 
where there is civilised eating, you shall have the feast 
of your life, if I have to buy up all the victuals and 
cooks in town.” 

“ Den dis niggah done hopes we comes to dat cibi- 
lised eatin’ mighty soon,” and Scoot grinned happily. 
A wish that was joined in most heartily by all the 
others. 

Only two of the oxen were alive when Mr. Judson 
and Jud Jimpson reached camp with the water, but these 
two were saved, and by ten o’clock they had so far 
recovered their strength that it was determined to con- 
tinue the journey that night as far as the little valley 
where the water had been obtained, which was only 
some seven or eight miles distant. 

“ I reckon we’ll have to try yoking them two horses 
of yours, boys, along with the oxen,” Mr. Judson said 
to Ray and Arthur, when everything was ready for the 
start. “ Them oxen can’t pull that waggon without 
help.” 

Accordingly, much to Getthere’s and Black Duke’s 
astonishment and disgust, a yoke was placed around 

[397 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

their necks and they were hitched to the waggon ahead 
of the oxen, and after a few minutes’ vain protesting 
the two horses, like the wise animals they were, seemed 
to understand the situation, and settled down nobly to 
do the work before them. 

Mr. Judson and Tom Rawlins lingered behind the 
waggons for a few minutes to attend to the needs of 
the two robbers. Slim George and Mike, who lay on 
the ground still strongly bound and gagged. 

First they placed by their sides a gallon jug full of 
water, a sufficient quantity of baked beans and dried 
meat and bread to last them three or four days, and a 
couple of hunting-knives. Then Mr. Judson wrote this 
warning on a piece of paper and tied it to the water- 
jug: 


WARNING 

don’t follow us. if we catch you dodging our trail again, 

WE WILL SHOOT TO KILL. KEEP OUT OF OUR WAY. IF. WE MEET WITH 
YOU ANY PLACE WHERE JUSTICE CAN BE ENFORCED, WE WILL HAVE 
YOU ARRESTED FOR ROBBERY. WE WILL WARN ALL EMIGRANTS WE 
MEET TO BE ON THEIR GUARD AGAINST YOU. QUIT LIVING LIKE DIRTY 
SKUNKS, AND BE MEN. 

This done, they approached the two robbers in much 
the same manner they would have approached two 
loathsome beasts, and without touching them except 
with the points of their knives or uttering a word, they 
cut the ropes that held their hands, and leaving them to 
free themselves from the gags and the ropes that bound 
their feet, turned, still without uttering a word, and 
walked swiftly after the departing waggon. When they 
reached the waggon they glanced back. Standing 

[398] 


Bill and Lis 

out on the ridge-top, clearly outlined in the brilliant 
moonlight, they saw Slim George and Mike. Both men 
were shaking their fists furiously at them, and doubt- 
less calling down the direst anathemas, but our friends 
were now too far away to even hear their voices. 

Some three hours later, after a long, weary tramp 
across the remaining stretch of desert and over the 
rocky ridge and through gullies, the little party of tired 
emigrants reached the valley, and with thankful 
hearts pitched their camp on the grass-covered banks 
of a clear stream of water, free at last from the perils 
of the desert, and soon every one except the guard was 
sound asleep. 

There were a large number of emigrants encamped 
in the valley, resting themselves and animals after their 
arduous journey across the desert, and from them our 
friends learned the next day that they had followed, 
for the greater distance, an old trail across the desert 
that had been recently abandoned for another route, 
longer but with grass and water at intervals of every 
thirty miles or so. This explained how it was that they 
had travelled so many miles without seeing a fellow 
emigrant, when there was hardly a stretch of a mile 
on the whole trail from Independence to California 
over which the waggons of an emigrant train were not 
creaking during some hour of the day. 

The little valley was filled with rumours of the gold 
mines, fed by tales told by the two hunters who had 
so recently come from California, and other stories 
that somehow had filtered across the intervening moun- 
tain range, and everybody was greatly excited and anx- 
ious to get to the mines as speedily as possible. Con- 
sequently, the delay of three days which the Judson 
[ 399 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

party found it necessary to make here in order to re- 
cruit their horses and oxen was exceedingly trying to 
all, and especially to Ray and Arthur, who now felt 
as if they were almost in sight of the long-looked-for 
golden Eldorado of their dreams. But the delay proved 
to be not without its advantages, for before the end 
of the three days Mr. Judson’s persuasive tongue and 
gold had convinced the two hunters that it would be 
for their best interest to guide our party across the 
Sierra Nevada Mountains to the mines through a pass 
only known to them and the Indians, which they de- 
clared would make the journey several days shorter 
and be much easier on their oxen and horses than the 
usual emigrant route. 

Accordingly, the third night, Liscomb Davis, Lis for 
short, and Bill Cree, the two hunters, moved over to 
the Judson camp, to be ready for the start bright and 
early the next morning. 

That was a famous night for the children. Lis and 
Bill, as the two hunters preferred to be called, were 
both old “ mountain men,” and had hunted and trapped 
for years all through that region, and were chuck-full 
of stories of their adventures with wild beasts and In- 
dians; but most interesting of all, they had come direct 
from the gold mines themselves, had actually seen the 
gold with their own eyes, had even picked it out of the 
sand and gravel with their own hands, and had some 
of it at that very moment in their own pockets I And 
Ray and Arthur could hardly contain their excitement 
when each thrust a hand in his pocket, pulled out a 
small buckskin bag and, opening it, poured out on the 
palm of his hand a little pile of the gold-dust of which 
they had heard so much, but never had seen before. 

[ 400] 


Bill and Lis 

“ Me ’nd Bill dug this out of th’ river-gravel in two 
days/’ Lis explained. “ I reckon thar’s ’bout a hundred 
dollars in each pile. One feller alongside of us cleaned 
up a thousand dollars in th’ same time, an’ another 
farther up th’ river took out ten thousand dollars in 
five days, while two men jest below us didn’t clean up 
enough to buy their grub.” 

“ But why did you come away? ” broke in Arthur 
excitedly. “ Why did you come away, when you could 
pick up gold like that? ” and his eyes looked in aston- 
ishment from the faces of the two hunters to the little 
piles of gold on the palms of their hands. 

“ Wall, I reckon me ’nd Bill won’t cut out for gold- 
diggers,” the old hunter replied, shaking his head. 
“ We’ve lived tew free an’ easy tew be bound down tew 
a pick an’ shovel, a-slingin’ gravel, an’ a-gettin’ back- 
aches an’ armaches an’ legaches an’ rumatics an’ th’ 
Lord only knows what else, an’ all for little specks of 
yeller stuff, some on ’em not bigger’n pinheads. Besides, 
me ’nd Bill ain’t needin’ no gold. Ain’t we got our rifles, 
an’ God’s great country full of wild critters tew use ’em 
in? An’ what more can any sensible man, who knows 
th’ feel of a good rifle, ask? Gold! Let ’em that wants 
tew dig in th’ dirt for th’ yeller stuff, me ’nd Bill’s 
goin’ tew roam free an’ easy an’ inderpendent. Not 
but what minin’s all right for ’em that don’t know th’ 
virtues of a good rifle,” he added apologetically, “ but 
no more gravel scratchin’ for me ’nd Bill.” 

“ Please, please, may I hold some of the gold in my 
own hand? ” and Mildred, who with shining eyes and 
flushed face had been waiting an opening to prefer her 
request, held out one of her hands. 

“ Sure,” and with a good-natured laugh the hunter 
[ 401 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

dumped the little pile of shining gold-dust on Mildred’s 
extended palm. “ ’Tain’t much tew look at.” 

Ray and Arthur and Sally and Scoot at once crowded 
around Mildred, and all had to feel of the precious 
gold with their own fingers and to heft it in their own 
hands. 

“ Am dat de gold like what we’s gwine to dig up 
like ’taters in dat Cal’fornee?” Scoot asked, when at 
last the yellow grains lay on his black palm. 

“ Yes, yes,” Ray answered, laughing. “ That’s the 
real stuff. Scoot, just as it is picked up from the 
ground.” 

“ Den dem Cal’fornee ’taters mighty small no ’count 
’taters,” and Scoot’s face showed his disgust. “ We done 
growed bigger peas dan dem in old Kentuck.” 

“ But think. Scoot, that little pile of gold you hold 
in your hand is worth a hundred dollars ! ” 

“Golly, am she?” and Scoot stared at the gold. 
“ Hundred dollars ! More’n ’nuff to buy two cows in 
old Kentuck ! Den dis niggah’s gwine to scratch grabbel 
mighty lively when he done gits to dat Cal’fornee ! ” 

When all had felt and hefted and examined the gold- 
dust, it was returned to the hunter, and for an hour 
longer the circle around that glowing camp-fire in that 
lonely little valley sat and listened eagerly while the 
two old hunters told of their brief experiences in the 
rough mining camps, where fortunes were found and 
lost in a day, and where men were wildly sacrificing 
health and all the comforts of life in their mad search 
for gold. 

“ My, but if we should strike it rich and make our 
pile, wouldn’t we be the happy boys? ” Arthur confided 
to Ray, as he rolled himself up in his blanket to go to 
[ 402 3 


Bill and Lis 

sleep. “ I think It would take about a hundred thousand 
dollars to satisfy me ! ” and he drew In his breath at 
the thought of the magnitude of that vast sum and of 
his boldness In daring even to hope that he might 
become the possessor of so great wealth. 

“Well, you’re not a bit hoggish, are you. Art?” 
and Ray laughed. “ Now, I’m not going to be satisfied 
with no skimpy hundred thousand dollars. I’m not 
going to quit until I get a hundred million dollars I 
Then what’ll your skimpy hundred thousand look like 
by the side of my pile?” and Ray nudged Arthur 
In the ribs. “ But, honest, now, I would like to find 
about twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth of gold. 
You see ” 

“ Silence In the ranks,” called Mr. Judson. “ This Is 
sleeping-time, not talking-time.” 

“ All right,” laughed Ray, and the two boys shut 
their mouths and eyes, and in five minutes were sound 
asleep and doubtless dreaming of shovelling gold- 
dust into great buckskin bags, much as they had shov- 
elled wheat Into grain bags back on old Thompson’s 
farm in far-off Ohio. 


[403] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 


THE SHOWER OF ARROWS 

B efore sunup the next morning our friends 
were moving out of the little valley under the 
guidance of the two hunters. All were in splen- 
did spirits. The dangers and hardships and sufferings of 
the past were forgotten in the thought that now they 
were nearing the end of their long journey, that now 
they were almost within sight of the Promised Land. 

Ray and Arthur walked by the side of Mildred, who 
was again on Beauty, their own horses being still 
needed to help the oxen pull the waggon, and as they 
walked they talked and joked merrily and planned 
what they would do when they reached the mines and 
found the gold, building many of those delightful air- 
castles so dear to every youthful heart, and which rise, 
beautiful and stately, only at the touch of the magic 
wand of youth. 

The route passed out of the little valley through a 
rock-ribbed gully, and thence for many miles along the 
dry bed of a mountain stream, from which it turned 
aside toward the middle of the afternoon to cross over 
a low-lying ridge that separated it from the valley 
beyond. When the top of this ridge was reached, the 
two hunters, who led the way, paused and, stretching 
out their hands, pointed across the valley to where in 

[ 404 ] 


The Shower of Arrows 

the far distance the rugged sides and lofty peaks of 
great mountains rose in the purple-blue of the western 
horizon. 

“ Them’s th’ Sierra Nevada Mountains,” and Lis’s 
hand swept the western horizon, “ an’ beyond ’em is 
th’ Land of Gold, where thousands of men are a-break- 
in’ their backs an’ a-ruinin’ their health a-tryin’ tew git a 
fortune sudden an’ easy. Blamed if I can see the sense 
on it, when rifles are so cheap an’ wild critters so 
plenty,” and he shook his grizzled head as if this phase 
of human nature was altogether beyond his compre- 
hension. 

Our friends were too far away to see more than 
the big outlines of these grand mountains, but even thus 
they were a beautiful and an impressive sight. Their 
loftiest peaks were white with snow, and below them 
rose great shoulders of massive rocks, broken and rent 
by shadowy ravines and dark canyons, their huge bod- 
ies belted with the purplish blue of the heavy pine for- 
ests that clothed their sides above the pale green of 
the skirts of the foot-hills. 

“ Them’s ’bout as high as they make mountains, I 
reckon,” Bill said, gazing proudly at the distant snow- 
capped peaks. “ An’ I’d a sight rather be a wanderin’ 
around in ’em free an’ easy, with my rifle on my shoul- 
der, than a-diggin’ for that tarnal gold with a shovel 
in my hands an’ an ache in my back. Blamed if I can 
see where the fun comes in,” and he, too, shook his 
head. 

‘‘ Takes all kinds of people to make the world,” Ar- 
thur laughed, “ and if some didn’t dig for gold, why 
we wouldn’t have any gold for money or jewelry. Will 
we get to those mountains to-night? ” 

[405 ] 


The ’Boy Forty-Niners 

“Will we git tew them mountains to-night?” and 
Lis chuckled. “ Not unless them oxen an’ bosses of 
yourn sprout wings an’ fly. Why, them mountains ’s 
more’n forty miles from here. But when we gits thar, 
me ’nd Bill knows a pass through ’em that’ll land you 
in th’ gold mines ’most afore you know it.” 

The trail followed by the two hunters was evidently 
well-known and frequently used by the Indians, for 
every few miles they passed “ Injun signs,” as the hunt- 
ers called them, old camp-fires and other indications 
of the coming and going of their red brothers, but Bill 
and Lis assured them that they were in no personal 
danger from the savages. 

“ Of course, if you gives ’em th’ chance, bein’ Injuns, 
they’s bound tew steal your critters,” Bill explained. 
“ Hoss-stealin’ ain’t stealin’ tew Injuns. It’s jest takin’ 
what belongs tew you if you can git it without gittin’ 
cotched. But most on th’ Injuns hereabouts is Diggers, 
an’ they ain’t got gump ’nuf tew fight anything bigger’n 
rabbits.” 

In one of the valleys they came upon a camp of these 
Indians, and after the boys had seen them and the way 
they lived, they understood quite well why it was that 
the two old hunters held them in such utter contempt. 
They were by far the most ignorant, degraded, and 
filthy of all the Indians they had seen, with low, flat 
foreheads, brutish dull faces, and pot-bellied bodies. 
They wore little clothing, and did not appear to know 
enough even to make suitable wigwams to protect 
themselves from the weather, but lived like wild ani- 
mals in caves and burrows and in rude shelters made 
of the branches of trees. They ate roots, seeds, acorns, 
frogs, snakes, lizards, grasshoppers, bugs — anything, 
[406] 


The Shower of Arrows 

however revolting In appearance, they could get into 
their mouths and down Into their stomachs. 

“ They’re the disgustingest, dirtiest, homeliest, ugli- 
est things I ever saw,” was Mildred’s way of express- 
ing her opinion of these Indians after about a dozen 
of them had made our little party of emigrants a visit 
as they passed through the valley, and had tried to beg 
everything that they could not get their hands on to 
steal, until at last our friends had been forced to drive 
them away and to keep them at a distance, which had 
made them angry, and they had followed after the 
waggon for a long time, making ugly threats and shout- 
ing foul names. 

“We must keep a mighty close watch on th’ critters 
to-night when we camp,” Bill warned, when the last of 
these Indians had been left In the distance. “ Like as 
not them Diggers will follow us an’ try tew git sum of 
th’ bosses or oxen. I’ve knowed th’ skunks tew creep up 
in th’ darkness an’ shoot a boss, jest tew git th’ carcuss 
they knowed would have tew be left th’ next day. They 
ain’t no use for any kind of a critter, except tew eat 
’em, an’ while they ain’t got no guns they can shoot 
them arrows straight as rifle balls.” 

Accordingly, when night came and the camp was 
pitched, the horses and oxen were herded together in 
a bunch, tightly hobbled, and a double guard placed 
over them. During the fore part of the night a clear 
sky and a bright moon made It Impossible for anything 
to get near the animals without being seen, but along 
toward morning the sky clouded over and It became 
quite dark. This happened a few minutes after Arthur, 
together with the two hunters, had gone on guard. 
The camp stood on the summit of a small hill covered 

[407 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

with short grass, with here and there a clump of bushes. 
The two tents and the waggon had been so placed as 
to form the points of a triangle with sides some two 
rods long. Inside the enclosure thus made were the oxen 
and the horses, while the women folks and the men 
folks slept in the two tents. The three guards stood at 
the points of the triangle, so that the entire camp was 
constantly under their eyes. Arthur’s post was near the 
tent in which the men slept, and in front of which 
glowed a small camp-fire. 

“ Put out that camp-fire ! ” Bill called to Arthur 
from his post, as soon as it became too dark to see even 
for a couple of rods. “ Now’s th’ time them Diggers ’ll 
be gittin’ in their work, if ever, an’ that fire ’ll give ’em 
jest ’nuff light tew shoot by.” 

Arthur hurried to the fire, caught up a pail of water, 
and threw the water on the glowing coals; and even as 
the water struck the fire and the light went out in a 
cloud of smoke and steam, an arrow hit the pail in his 
hands, another whistled by close to his ears, and a 
sharp cry of pain came from the tent where the men 
lay, almost instantly followed by the loud reports of 
the rifles of the two hunters, and the cries of Mr. Jud- 
son and Tom Rawlins and Jud Jimpson as they rushed 
out of the tent, their rifles in their hands. 

“ Where? Where? In what direction? ” and the ex- 
cited men glanced anxiously around. 

For answer Arthur threw his rifle to his shoulder 
and fired toward the spot where he knew there was a 
thick clump of bushes. 

A cry of pain followed the shot, and almost in- 
stantly the three rifles of Mr. Judson and Tom Raw- 
lins and Jud Jimpson were discharged in the same 
[408 ] 


The Shower of Arrows 

direction, but not another sound was heard nor was 
there another arrow shot. The Indians had vanished as 
silently as they had come. 

“ Where’s Ray? ” Arthur asked a few minutes later 
when the excitement had quieted down a little. “ I 
thought I heard him cry out, as if hurt, just after the 
arrow struck the pail. He — he isn’t here!” and he 
rushed madly into the tent calling, “ Ray ! Ray I ” A 
moment later he uttered a sharp cry of anguish and 
called excitedly: “He’s shot! He’s dead! Somebody 
bring a light, quick! ” 

When the light was brought, Ray was seen lying on 
his back near the middle of the tent unconscious, with 
an arrow protruding from his left shoulder. 

In a moment Mrs. Judson, Mr. Judson, and Tom 
Rawlins were kneeling by his side. With a hand as 
gentle as a woman’s Tom Rawlins carefully drew out 
the arrow and cut open the clothing over the wound. 
The arrow had struck just below the shoulder-blade, 
but had not penetrated deeply, and the wound, while 
exceedingly painful, was not at all dangerous. 

“ He’s only fainted from the shock and the pain. 
Get some water. Art, and we’ll have his senses back in 
a jiffy,” and Mr. Judson turned a face almost joyous 
in its relief to Arthur, who dashed away at once after 
the water. 

Tom Rawlins, in cutting open the clothing, had laid 
bare Ray’s bosom, and his eyes had caught the glitter 
of the jewelled ring that hung from the boy’s neck. 
For a moment he stared at the ring, and then, with a 
flushed face he caught it up quickly and examined it 
eagerly. Presently he laid down the ring and looked 
curiously into Ray’s face, but he said nothing, and 

[ 409 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

when Arthur came back with the water he arose and 
hurried out of the tent. “ To make sure that none of 
them pesky Diggers are hanging about,” he said. 

A dash of water into Ray’s face at once restored him 
to consciousness, and in a few minutes the skilful hands 
of Mr. and Mrs. Judson had washed and bound up his 
wound, and everybody was assured that his hurt, while 
it would disable him for a few days, was not in the 
least dangerous. 

In the meantime the two hunters and Jud Jimpson 
had searched the region round about the camp in vain 
for the cowardly “ Diggers.” They had all disappeared, 
and nothing more was seen or heard of them. 

One of the horses was found so badly hurt by an 
arrow that they were obliged to kill him, and both 
Getthere and Black Duke were slightly wounded, but 
otherwise the Indians had done no harm. 

In the morning Arthur examined the clump of bushes 
toward which he had shot, and found there a little pool 
of dried blood, which told him that his ball had at least 
hit one of the “ Diggers,” but whether mortally or 
not he could not tell. 

“ Well, it evens up things a bit with the rascals, 
anyway,” he declared. “ And I’m glad I don’t know 
whether or not I killed one of them. It isn’t pleasant 
to know you have killed a human being, even if it is a 
Digger Indian.” 

A bed was made in the waggon for Ray, who was 
getting on splendidly, where he was made as comfort- 
able as possible, and our friends were again on their 
way by sunrise. 

That afternoon they reached the Sierras, and at 
night camped at the entrance to a deep canyon, which 
[410] 


The Shower of Arrows 

the two hunters declared was the hallway to the pass 
that would carry them safely across the dreaded moun- 
tains and land them almost at the door of the mining 
region. ^ 

Tom Rawlins had been unusually silent and preoc- 
cupied during the day, and after the camp had been 
pitched he called Mr. Judson one side and asked him 
to tell him what he knew of Ray’s childhood and par- 
entage. Mr. Judson could give him little information, 
only what Ray had told him that he had been brought 
up in a poorhouse and that his father was dead, and 
so far as he knew he had no mother living. 

“ What is the trouble, Tom? ” Mr. Judson inquired, 
with the kindly curiosity and freedom of good com- 
radeship, when he had given him all the information 
he could about Ray. 

“ I don’t think I had better tell you just yet, Jed,” 
Tom Rawlins answered slowly, “ not until I’ve had a 
talk with the boy. You see I am not exactly certain about 
the matter myself yet, and I want to be sure before — ” 
and he hesitated. “ Well, the boy is a bully fellow, and 
I must have a talk with him before I can say anything 
more, even to you ; and I can’t talk with him now until 
his wound is better, so we will drop the subject for the 
present and return to the camp-fire,” and he led the 
way back to where Jud Jimpson and the two hunters 
sat around a blazing camp-fire. 


[411 ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 


AT THE devil’s SLIDE 

HE next morning Ray was feverish and still 



obliged to lie on his bed in the waggon, but 


Mildred sat by his side, and her bright eyes 


saw and her quick tongue described to the invalid the 
most interesting scenes passed as they entered in the 
early morning’s light the cool shadows of the canyon 
and slowly wended their way along its rocky bottom. 

On both sides the canyon rose in walls of solid rock 
hundreds of feet high. The bottom in places was not 
over twenty feet wide, and was often covered so thickly 
with water-worn rocks that at times the larger of these 
had to be pushed or rolled aside before the waggon 
could pass. On each side the walls of the canyon were 
worn almost as smooth as glass to a height of twenty 
or more feet, evidently by the action of water rushing 
through the narrow passage with tremendous velocity. 

Mr. Judson observed these evidences of the power 
of the floods that sometimes swept through the can- 
yon with an ever increasing apprehension. What if a 
sudden downpour of rain in the mountains should again 
send a torrent of water boiling over the rocky bottom? 
The smooth, almost perpendicular walls of the can- 
yon offered no refuge. They would be caught like 
drowning rats in a hole and instantly destroyed. He 


[ 412 ] 


At the DeviVs Slide 

glanced anxiously toward the skies above. Only a nar- 
row ribbon of blue was visible. There was no way of 
even telling whether or not such a storm was brewing. 

“ How long is this canyon? ” and he turned solicit- 
ously to the two hunters. 

“ ’Bout twenty miles,” answered Bill. “ It cuts out 
more’n a hundred miles of th’ roughest kind of trailin’, 
goin’ by th’ old route, an’ lands us within fifty miles 
of th’ minin’ regions. But ’tain’t safe for critters an’ 
waggins, only when one’s mighty sartain there ain’t 
goin’ to be any heavy rains in th’ mountains. You see, 
when thar’s a big rain in th’ mountains th’ water comes 

a-tumblin’ an’ boilin’ ” 

‘‘ But how do you know there is no big rain due 
now?” Mr. Judson interrupted anxiously. “And why 
didn’t you tell us about the dangers of this canyon when 
we were talking over the route with you? ” and his eyes 
began to glint angrily. “ We’ve got women and little 
children to look out for.” 

“ Well,” Lis replied slowly, taking no notice of Mr. 
Judson’s anger, “ me ’nd Bill’s been livin’ in these 
mountains off an’ on now for nigh an even dozen years, 
an’ we’ve never knowed it tew rain yet durin’ th’ wanin’ 
of th’ moon in October, have we. Bill? ” 

“ Not a-once,” Bill responded promptly. 

“ So we calculates there ain’t no rain due,” continued 
Lis, “ bein’ this is October an’ th’ moon on th’ wane, 
an’ we’ll be out of th’ canyon afore night, anyhow, an’ 
where no freshet can git us, an’ ’most within sight of 
th’ gold mines, an’ so I calculates there ain’t no need of 
nobody worrin,” and with these explanations Mr. Jud- 
son had to be content, but it was evident that he did 
not put as much confidence in the waning moon as the 

[413] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

two hunters did, for he was constantly urging the oxen 
and horses to greater speed, and would allow only a 
half-hour nooning instead of the usual hour. 

The result soon justified his haste and anxiety, for 
about three o’clock in the afternoon, when they were 
nearing the end of the canyon, all were startled by the 
low rumble of distant thunder, followed in a few min- 
utes by louder and nearer peals that shook, with their 
dreadful warnings, every heart, for all only too clearly 
understood their peril, should they be caught by a 
mountain freshet in the canyon. 

“ How much farther have we got to go before we 
can get out of here? ” Mr. Judson inquired anxiously. 

“ Not more’n a couple of miles,” Bill replied, his 
eyes scanning apprehensively the long ribbon of blue 
above his head. “ I reckon you’d better jest poke up 
them critters a bit,” and he turned to Jud Jimpson, who 
was driving. 

Every one, even the animals, seemed aware of their 
danger, and now hurried forward at utmost speed. And 
there was need, for every minute the thunder was 
sounding louder and nearer and the canyon growing 
darker, and an inky blackness was rapidly creeping up 
the blue ribbon. Soon the darkness became so great that 
it was with difficulty they could see their way, but for- 
tunately the bottom of the canyon now became smoother 
and the rocks and stones fewer, and on they hurried, 
the oxen and horses almost on the gallop. 

A few big drops of rain splashed down into the 
canyon, a cool gust of wind rushed furiously between 
its rocky walls, and then for a minute or two no rain 
fell and no wind blew, while the darkness grew apace. 

“ The water is beginning to flow along the bottom 

[414] 


At the DeviVs Slide 

of the canyon ! ” called Arthur. “ I can feel it beating 
against my feet.” 

“Hurry! Hurry!” shouted Mr. Judson, his eyes 
searching the sides of the canyon for some place of 
refuge. “ Hurry ! Hurry ! ” and he rushed to the sides 
of the oxen and horses and began prodding them with 
the muzzle of his rifle. 

Now with a roar the rain poured down into the can- 
yon in a torrent of great drops, the wind whistled 
shrilly by their ears, the thunders boomed directly over 
their heads, and the water raced furiously by their feet, 
gathering strength and depth each moment. In five min- 
utes it was up to their ankles, in ten minutes it was 
swirling around their knees, and then, above the sound 
of the falling rain and the rush of the whistling wind, 
came the roar of the down-coming flood, and away up 
the canyon appeared a wall of black, topped with white, 
falling swiftly toward them. 

“ Quick ! Cut the bosses an’ oxen free from th’ wag- 
gin ! ” shouted Bill, drawing his hunting-knife and leap- 
ing to the rope with which Getthere and Black Duke 
were hitched to the end of the waggon-tongue. 

“ Grab what you can out of th’ waggin, an’ follow 
me ! ” cried Lis, seizing a blanket from the waggon 
and a chunk of dried meat and leaping toward a dark 
opening that showed a little ahead in the right wall of 
the canyon. “ We’ve got tew th’ Devil’s Slide jest in 
time to save our necks.” 

Mr. Judson seized his money-chest, caught Mildred 
in his arms, and with Mrs. Judson clinging to his 
elbow, sprang for the opening. 

Big Tom Rawlins threw his great arms around Ray, 
bedding and all, and bore him through the rushing 

[415] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

water after Mr. Judson. In two minutes he felt the 
ground ascending beneath his feet, and In another 
minute he was mounting the gully torn through the 
wall of the canyon by the Devil’s Slide, and in five 
minutes more he stood with his burden safe above the 
roaring flood below on the flat bottom of the Devil’s 
Slide. 

“ Is everybody safe? Oh, is everybody safe? ” gasped 
Mrs. Judson, glancing around the little assemblage anx- 
iously the moment they paused on reaching a point of 
safety. 

“ Safe here ! ” shouted Jud Jimpson joyously. “ Wife 
an’ yunks an’ all I ” 

“ Thank God ! Thank God, we are all safe ! ” and 
Mrs. Judson fell sobbing Into her husband’s arms. 

“Scoot! Where’s Scoot?” and Mildred looked 
wildly around. “ I can’t see Scoot! Oh, he’s drowned! 
He’s drowned ! ” 

“ ’Deed I’s not! ” and Scoot, still very shaky in his 
legs but otherwise sound, slid off the back of Beauty 
and stood, grinning with joy, in front of Mildred. “ I 
done sabed yo’ lil pony,” and he straightened up and 
glanced proudly at Beauty. 

Getthere and Black Duke had also managed to 
scramble to safety up the Devil’s Slide, but the other 
two horses and the oxen and the waggon were gone, and 
with them had gone everything they possessed in the 
world except what they had on their backs or held in 
their hands. 

“ Thank God! Thank God, we are all safe ! The rest 
does not matter,” and Mrs. Judson drew Mildred close 
to her and kissed her, and then kissed her husband, to 
his evident embarrassment. 

[ 416 ] 


At the DeviVs Slide 

“ There, there, Cat,” he said, gently pulling her arms 
from about his neck. “ WeVe all got a lot to be thank- 
ful for to come out of that alive ! ” and he glanced 
shudderingly down the Devil’s Slide to where a flood 
of water twenty or more feet deep was now rushing 
through the canyon. “ And I’m too glad that we all 
escaped with our skins on to do any mourning for 
what’s gone. I reckon something went wrong with your 
waning moon,” and he turned with a smile to the two 
hunters. 

“ Me ’nd Bill ain’t trustin’ in no moon any more,” 
Lis answered, fingering his rifle awkwardly. “ An’ we 
both asks your pardon for a-gettin’ you intew all this 
trouble, an’ tew show we’re a-meanin’ of what we say, 
we gives you our services as guides an’ refuses tew take 
any pay.” 

“ Oh, we’ll stick to our bargain,” Mr. Judson said, 
laughing. “ I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose, since 
you risked your own necks as well as ours. But now 
we’ll be thankful if you’ll take us to a place where we 
can camp for the night and dry our clothes and get our 
scattered wits together.” 

“ Sartain. Me ’nd Bill ’ll have you all dry as tinder 
in less ’n an hour, an’ a roof over your heads,” and he 
grinned. “ But what we says ’bout pay goes. Now for 
th’ camp.” 

Ray declared himself able to ride, and was lifted 
onto the back of Getthere, Mrs. Jimpson and the baby 
were mounted on Beauty, the few things that were 
saved from the waggon were packed on Black Duke, 
and our friends set out up the Devil’s Slide after the two 
hunters. 

At the top of the Slide, which was but a steep gully 

[417] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

worn through the side of the canyon, they found them- 
selves, to their surprise, standing on the borders of a 
pleasant grass-covered and wooded mountain valley, 
and near the mouth of a large cave which ran back 
into the rocks for a distance of thirty or more feet. 

“ There’s your house,” and Bill pointed to the cave. 
“Jest walk right in an’ make yourselves tew home, 
while me an’ Lis hustles sum wood for a fire,” and he 
hurried off toward a little grove of trees a few rods 
away, followed by Lis. 

The cave proved to be dry, with a clean, sandy bot- 
tom, and afforded a welcome shelter from the rain, 
which was still falling. 

In less than the allotted hour the two hunters had a 
great fire roaring in the cavern, and everybody was 
standing around it drying their steaming clothes, the 
only thing they could do, since they had no other clothes 
to put on in their place should they take those they 
had on off — that is, everybody was except Ray, who lay 
on the little pile of bedding that had been saved with 
him as near the fire as comfort would permit, apparently 
none the worse for his exciting experience. 

“ Well, let’s take stock and see where we stand,” Mr. 
Judson said when the warmth of the fire had dried 
some of the dampness out of their clothes and the chill 
out of their bodies. “ I reckon we won’t be none over- 
loaded with baggage,” a fact that the stock-taking 
made only too evident. 

Lis had saved a blanket and a chunk of dried meat, 
Tom Rawlins had borne away with Ray the four blan- 
kets he had been lying upon, Mr. Judson had saved his 
money-chest, all their guns and a few rounds of am- 
munition, and the three horses of the children had been 
[418] 


At the DeviVs Slide 

saved, and that was all that was left of the three well- 
loaded waggons and splendid yokes of oxen with which 
they had started from Independence so many weary 
weeks ago! 

“Good! ” Mr. Judson laughed, after the stock-tak- 
ing. “ WeVe plenty left to take us to the mines in fine 
shape. But what do we eat?” and he glanced a bit 
dubiously at the lone chunk of dried meat that lay on 
the sand near the fire. 

“And what do we eat it on?” and Mrs. Judson 
looked helplessly around the circle of faces. “ We 
haven’t got a blessed dish left to cook or eat a blessed 
thing in.” 

“ Reckon it’s up tew me ’nd Bill tew rustle for th’ 
grub,” and Lis stroked the butt of his rifle affection- 
ately. “ An’ as for dishes, me ’nd Bill has got sum up 
our sleeves,” and he smiled. “ So-long. We’s goin’ out 
tew git our suppers.” 

In less than half an hour the two hunters were back, 
bringing with them an antelope and a couple of par- 
tridges, which they threw down on the sand in front 
of the fire. 

“ Thar’s eatin’ fit for a king,” Lis said, as he leaned 
his rifle up against the side of the cave. “ Now, if you 
women folks ’ll git th’ birds ready for th’ spit, me ’nd 
Bill ’ll ’tend tew th’ deer-meat.” 

In a remarkably short time the choicest parts of the 
antelope and the two birds were broiling, spitted In- 
dian fashion, around the fire. That is, each piece of 
meat was thrust on the sharpened end of a stick about 
twenty inches long, the other end of the stick pushed 
into the sand at the proper distance from the fire and 
inclined toward the glowing coals in such a way as to 

[419 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

expose the meat to the heat and to protect the stick. 
By keeping careful watch and occasionally turning the 
spit, so as to expose all parts equally to the heat, the 
meat was soon broiled in a manner that, as Lis said, 
would have graced the table of a king. 

“ Now, I reckon it’s up tew me ’nd Bill tew fur- 
nish th’ plates,” and grinning, Lis and Bill again stole 
out of the cave, to return in a few minutes with long, 
wide strips of birch bark, which they deftly cut into 
squares and then rounded into “ plates ” with their 
hunting-knives, and tossed one to each of the interested 
group. 

“ Thar you be ! Now fall in an’ do your cooks 
credit,” and Bill seized one of the chunks of meat and 
shoved it off onto his bark plate with his hunting-knife, 
and all the others did likewise. 

It was a merry feast. Every one said something 
amusing or did something funny, and everybody 
laughed freely and joyously, as if being stranded in a 
wilderness was one of the most delightful and pleasant 
things that could happen to a party of people. And 
when the darkness of night came the three horses, 
that had been feeding on the rich grass outside, were 
brought into the cave and securely tied to stakes driven 
in the sand, and then all gathered around the blazing 
camp-fire and sat and talked until weariness and sleep 
warned them that it was time to seek their beds — the 
pleasantly warmed sand around the glowing camp-fire. 

Arthur lay for a long time, his eyes wide open, fas- 
cinated by the oddness of the scene and the strange- 
ness of the situation, watching the ruddy firelight play- 
ing along the walls and roof of the cave and over the 
sleeping forms of his companions, and listening to the 
[420] 


w 


At the DeviVs Slide 

mysterious sounds of the night and the wilderness, and 
wondering at the singularity of the fate that had 
brought him and his comrades through so many dan- 
gers to this lonely cave in the wild mountains of the 
far West. Presently, just as his eyes were beginning 
to grow heavy with sleep, he saw Tom Rawlins raise 
himself up softly from the sand and steal quietly over 
to where Ray lay sound asleep and stand silently ga- 
zing down on the boy’s face, a look of sorrow in his 
eyes. He watched him, dreamily wondering what it 
meant, for a few minutes, and then his heavy eyelids 
closed, and he, too, was sound asleep. 


[ 421 ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN 


THE LAND OF GOLD 

I T was now nearing the end of October, and the 
nights in the mountains were freezing cold, but in 
the cave, heated by the fire, our friends slept warm 
and comfortable, and by sunrise the next morning were 
wending their way across the little valley toward the 
gold mines, now so near that they hoped to reach them 
before the sun of another day should set. 

Ray had improved wonderfully during the night, and 
now sat on the back of Getthere without much dif- 
ficulty or pain. He had even declared that he was better 
able to walk than was Mrs. Judson, and had insisted 
on her mounting Getthere in his place, until Mr. Jud- 
son had threatened to tie him on the horse’s back if he 
did not stay on until he gave him permission to get off. 

The two hunters were on familiar ground and moved 
forward swiftly, appearing to know exactly where the 
easiest roads down the mountain-sides lay. Our friends 
followed, almost jubilantly, so near did they feel to 
their journey’s end, and so rejoiced were they to find 
themselves again in “ God’s Country,” as Mr. Judson 
called it. There were no more treeless, barren plains, no 
more sandy deserts, no more alkali dust, no more salty 
or poisonous water, no more sage-brush. But gigantic 
pines and other great trees clothed the mountain-sides, 
[422 ] 


The Land of Gold 

and sparkling streams of ice-cold water sang their way 
down to the rivers below, and the valleys were soft 
with knee-deep grass, and even the rocks themselves 
were covered with verdure, while all about them moved 
the wild inhabitants of this delightful region. 

Deer, antelope, mountain sheep, and elk were fre- 
quently seen, and once a startled moose sprang up from 
a nearby thicket and went crashing through the under- 
brush and disappeared before even the quick eyes of 
the hunters could get a shot at him. There was no need 
to go from the trail to hunt for game, upon which they 
now depended for their food. All they had to do was 
to choose and shoot and cook, and their breakfast or 
dinner or supper was ready. 

Here Arthur shot his first deer and Ray killed a 
mountain sheep without dismounting from the back 
of Getthere, and not half an hour later shot a black- 
tailed deer, whose fatal curiosity had caused him to 
pause for an instant within range of his rifle. 

Bears were also seen, some of them grizzlies, while 
wolves, lynxes, wildcats, and the lesser beasts of the 
mountains and forests were sighted almost every hour 
of the day, but none of these animals were killed except 
a small black bear, shot by Arthur, and four or five 
wildcats that seemed disposed to dispute their passage. 
They had no ammunition to waste, besides it did not 
seem sportsmanlike to kill even these animals just for 
the sake of the killing. 

They saw no Indians, although they frequently came 
to places where Indians had camped, and of course, be- 
ing far from the usual emigrant route, had no fellow 
travellers. They were alone in the midst of a virgin 
wilderness of surpassing beauty and grandeur, where 

[423 ] 


1 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

human feet, save those of the Indian and the lone white 
hunter and trapper, had never trod, where the country, 
as Jud Jimpson said, “ was jest as God made it.” 

“ I’d be almost willing to stop here and never go 
on to the gold mines,” Ray declared to Arthur, who 
was walking along by his side, near the close of the 
second day after the disaster at the Devil’s Slide, as 
our party entered one of those delightful little moun- 
tain valleys that nestle so picturesquely along the west- 
ern slope of the Sierras. “ It’s the most beautiful coun- 
try I ever saw,” and his charmed eyes roamed over 
the little grass-covered, flower-adorned valley, where, 
in the distance, a number of deers and antelopes were 
peacefully grazing on the banks of a small river, to the 
forest-clothed mountains that enclosed it like a giant 
frame. “ Wouldn’t it be great if we could spend a week 
hunting here? ” 

“Yes,” Arthur answered, his eyes sparkling. “But 
there is no use of thinking of such a thing; besides, we 
haven’t enough ammunition to last us a day, and — and 
I am really too anxious to get to the mines and have a 
try for some of that gold to stop anywhere. Just think, 
it has been nearly four months since we left Independ- 
ence ! Four months, and we haven’t once been under 
the shelter of the roof of a house or slept in a regular 
bed or ate at a table in all that time I Seems like years 
since that day we were hoeing corn in old farmer 
Thompson’s cornfield, don’t it? I wonder if Thompson 
has quit wondering what has become of us yet,” and 
Arthur laughed. “ Hello, I’ll bet we’re going to camp 
here! ” and he glanced toward Bill and Lis, who had 
stopped on the banks of the little river near a grove 
of trees. “ That don’t look much like reaching the gold 

[ 424 ] 


r 


The Land of Gold 

mines to-night, and Bill and Lis said that we might,” 
and his face showed his disappointment. 

Arthur was right. The two hunters had decided that 
it would be wise to spend the night there in that delight- 
ful valley, promising the disappointed boys that they 
would be in the mining camps along the American 
River before noon the next day. 

“ Th’ gold-diggin’s are jest over beyond them 
rocks,” and Lis pointed to the rocky ridge that en- 
closed the valley on the west, ‘‘ ’bout four or five hours’ 
tramp from here, tew far tew git there tew-night, but 
we’ll fetch ’em all right afore noon tew-morrer.” 

“To-morrow! To-morrow! The gold mines to-mor- 
row, and then — ” Arthur hesitated. 

“ And then we’ll all be digging gold, digging gold, 
digging gold,” sang Mildred. “ We’ll all be digging 
gold to-morrow. Oh, see, they’re going to make a brush 
house for us to sleep in ! Come on, let’s help,” and 
away she ran to where the men were already cutting 
poles and brush with which to build a shelter for the 
women and children from the dampness and cold of 
the night. 

The five men worked rapidly, and in an hour the 
brush house was completed, with a slanting roof 
thatched with long grass and bound down by poles, 
and with sides of interwoven brush and grass, imper- 
vious alike to wind and rain. A half of one side of 
the house was left open, and in front of this a huge 
camp-fire was built. No need of being saving of fuel 
now, with millions of acres of trees all around them ! 

After supper Tom Rawlins approached Ray, and in 
a voice so low that none of the others heard, asked the 
boy to take a short walk with him along the banks of 

[425] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

the river, where they would be alone, as there was a 
private matter that he wished to talk over with him. 

Ray glanced up in surprise at his big friend, and 
then, noticing the look of sad sternness on his face, 
walked along by his side without saying a word, won- 
dering greatly why he should wish a private interview 
with him and what it was that had affected him so 
deeply. 

Half a dozen rods from the camp a huge oak tree 
lifted its gnarled and knotted trunk close to the river- 
side, and here Tom Rawlins paused and asked Ray to 
be seated on a rock that jutted out above the ground 
at the base of the tree. 

Ray at once sat down on the rock, and turned an un- 
easy and curious face to his companion, who stood with 
his back against the rough trunk of the tree. 

“ Ray,” and there was the faintest suggestion of a 
tremor in Tom Rawlins’s deep voice, “ I have always 
found it best, when you’ve got anything to say, to say 
it in the fewest words possible, especially if it is some- 
thing unpleasant, so I am not going to beat about the 
bush with you, but come to the point at once,” and his 
face hardened. “ What have you done with that gold 
watch and chain you took from me on board the Queen 
of the Ohio about the time I had that trouble with the 
gambler?” and he looked straight into Ray’s startled 
eyes as if he would read every thought in the brain . " 
behind them. ^ 

For a full two minutes Ray stared back into his' 
eyes, too astounded and horrified by the unexpectedness 
of the terrible charge to utter a word or to make a 
movement; and then, as the dreadful significance of 
Tom Rawlins’s words began to sink more deeply into 
[ 426 ] 


r' 



‘‘You — You Don’t Mean to Accuse Me?” 










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The Land of Gold 

his comprehension, his face flushed redly from neck to 
brow, and he jumped to his feet and stood tremblingly 
before Tom Rawlins. 

“ You — you don’t mean to accuse me of — of steal- 
ing your watch and chain ! ” and his eyes began to flash 
indignantly. 

“ I do mean to accuse you of taking my watch and 
chain,” and Tom Rawlins laid a heavy hand on the boy’s 
shoulder. ‘‘ But,” and his face softened, “ I’ll not be 
hard with you, Ray. We’ve been through too much 
together. I’ll not be hard with you, Ray. Tell me how 
you came to take the watch and chain, and what you 
have done with them, and I swear that no one but 
you and I shall ever know of this. Tell me, Ray,” and 
the hand on the boy’s shoulder trembled and his eyes 
looked longingly down on the young face. 

“ But I didn’t take them ! I never saw them ! I don’t 
know what you mean I How can you, how dare you, 
accuse me of doing such a dreadful thing? ” 

“ Listen,” and Tom Rawlins’s face grew hard again, 
“ you shall know how and why I dare accuse you. It 
is your right to know. Attached to the chain I wore a 
gold ring — a peculiar gold ring. There is but one other 
like it in the world. Ray, that ring hangs from a string 
around your neck! I saw it when dressing the wound 
made by the Digger Indian’s arrow. Now will you tell 
me what you have done with the watch and chain?” 
and Tom Rawlins’s grip tightened on Ray’s shoulder. 

“ My father’s ring! You accuse me of stealing my 
father’s ring!” gasped the horrified boy. “Why, I 
have had that ring since I was a baby in the poorhouse ! 
It was taken from my dead father’s finger and given 
to me. Art knows all about it. He has seen it hundreds 

[427] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

of times. You can write to the poorhouse. They will 
tell you that I came honestly by it. I am not a thief,” 
and the tears came into the agitated boy’s eyes. 

Tom Rawlins’s hand had dropped from Ray’s shoul- 
der, and he was staring with startled eyes into the boy’s 
face. 

“Your father’s ring I Your dead father’s ring! ” he 
repeated blankly. “Your father’s ring! Tell me, who 
was your father?” and he gripped Ray by both his 
shoulders and held him rigidly, while his eyes searched 
his face. 

“ George Norman,” Ray answered. “ He was a cir- 
cus athlete, and was killed while performing when I 
was five years old, and this ring,” and Ray’s hand went 
to his bosom and pulled out the ring, “ was found on 
his finger and was left with me at the county poor- 
house. Why do you say it is your ring, and that I 
stole it? ” 

“ George Norman ! George Norman Rawlins ! 
George Norman, circus athlete! Ray, Ray, my boy! 
Ray, your father was my brother! Ray, I am your 
uncle ! There can be no mistake. There were only two 
rings of the kind ever made, and George had one and 
I the other. Ray, forgive me,” and the great arms 
caught up the astonished boy and held him close to his 
bosom, and then, still holding him in his arms, started 
with him for the camp, and when he reached the camp- 
fire he put Ray down on his feet and taking him by the 
hand, turned to the surprised group gathered around 
the fire. 

“ Let me introduce ourselves,” he cried, his face 
glowing with happiness. “ Good friends, my nephew, 
Ray Norman Rawlins,” and he pushed Ray forward. 
[ 428 ] 


The Land of Gold 

“ Good friends, his father’s brother, Thomas David 
Rawlins,” and he bowed to his astounded friends. 

What a time of congratulating and hand-shaking 
and questioning followed! Everybody was talking and 
laughing and trying to shake hands all at the same 
time, and every one had to examine the wonderful ring 
that had played such an important part in the affair 
again and again, and to hear its story repeated over and 
over. 

The story, briefly told, was as follows: 

George Norman Rawlins, Ray’s father, had run 
away from home when but a lad to join a travelling 
circus that had caught his boyish fancy. When he grew 
up he became a star trapeze performer and all-around 
athlete, and as such travelled all over the world with 
various circuses. In India he bought the two curious 
rings, both exactly alike, and was assured by the jew- 
eller that they were the only two of the kind that had 
ever been made. On his return to America he had 
visited his old home, and had given one of the rings 
to his younger and only brother, Thomas, who had 
greatly taken his fancy. Shortly after this he had mar- 
ried, and some six years later the old folks at home 
had received a letter asking them to take into their 
home and hearts his motherless little boy. They had 
written back at once for him to send the boy, but their 
letter was returned by the Dead Letter Office at Wash- 
ington, and they had never heard from him again, nor 
were they able to learn what had become of either the 
father or the child. Tom Rawlins had always greatly 
prized the ring as a memento of his loved and lost 
brother, and had worn it attached to his watch chain 
in place of a charm, because the circlet was too small 

[429] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

to be passed over any one of his huge fingers. Some 
time, while on board the Queen of the Ohio, the ring, 
chain, watch, and all had been stolen from him, and 
he had believed Slim George, the gambler, to have 
taken them until he saw what he took to be his own 
ring hanging from a string around Ray’s neck. 

Such was the story of the ring and how Ray came to 
be accused of its theft. 

“You don’t know how good it seems to find that I 
really and truly do belong to somebody, that I have 
relatives, uncles, cousins, even a grandfather and grand- 
mother, living the same as other boys,” Ray said, after 
the excitement had quieted down. “ And Uncle Tom 
and I are going back to the old home,” his voice trem- 
bled a little as he spoke the word home — it was the 
first time he had ever spoken of a home of his own — 
“ just as soon as we make our pile in the mines. Aren’t 
we, uncle ” — his voice hesitated just a little over the 
uncle— “Tom?” 

“ Yes, and mother and father will be very proud of 
such a splendid big grandson,” and the big fellow’s 
eyes rested affectionately on his nephew. 

“ And Art shall go with us,” Ray continued, his eyes 
turning lovingly to where Arthur sat. “ And — and if 
he can’t find his own father and mother, he shall live 
with us. What splendid times we’ll have I ” and the 
boy’s eyes glistened. 

“ But I am going to find my father and mother if 
they are living,” Arthur declared. “ I want to know 
that I belong to somebody, too,” and there were tears 
in his eyes even while his lips smiled. “ It makes me want 
to find my folks more than ever now to see what a 
splendid uncle you have discovered,” and he glanced 

[430] 


The Land of Gold 

at Big Tom Rawlins, who bowed and grinned. “ Maybe 
there is something equally good in uncles waiting for 
me,” and Arthur laughed to hide the ache in his heart, 
for he now felt more lonely and friendless than ever — 
no, not friendless, for no boy ever had better friends 
than he, and his eyes turned fondly to the faces of 
Mr. and Mrs. Judson and Mildred and Ray, and the 
sight of their loved forms brought him comfort and 
cheer. 

Not until Mr. Judson called, Sleep-time. Every- 
body stop talking and get to bed. To-morrow lands us 
in the Diggings, and we want to get an early start,” did 
Ray stop plying his uncle with questions about his 
father and the old home, and it was long after he had 
stretched himself out in front of the fire before sleep 
came to quiet his excited mind and to take him to the 
land of dreams, where he was discovering fresh uncles 
and aunts and cousins and grandfathers and grand- 
mothers all night long. 

“ Turn out ! Roll out I Everybody going to the gold- 
diggings get up ! ” shouted Mr. Judson the next morn- 
ing, an hour before the sun showed above the peaks 
of the Sierras. 

There was no lingering in “ bed.” At the first shout 
all jumped to their feet, for at last the day had 
dawned that was to bring them to their journey’s end 
— to the gold mines ! The breakfast was hurriedly pre- 
pared and eaten, the few things they had left were 
quickly packed on one of the horses, and with jubilant 
hearts their last day’s journey was begun. 

They reached the top of the ridge about nine o’clock, 
but a thick forest of tall pine trees shut off a view of 
the valley below from their eager eyes. 

[ 431 ] 


The Boy Forty-Niners 

“Oh, when — when will we see fthe gold mines?” 
Mildred implored impatiently of the two hunters, try- 
ing in vain to penetrate the thick woods with her eyes. 
“ When will we see the gold mines?” and her glow- 
ing cheeks dimpled and her eyes sparkled with excite- 
ment. 

“ In ’bout an hour, so be it we keeps a-goin’,” Bill 
answered. “ But they ain’t much tew see. Jest a lot of 
dirty men scratchin’ gravel like a lot of crazy hens, and 
gettin’ that excited when they strikes a bit of yeller 
no bigger’n the end of your finger, that you’d think 
they’d knocked a hole through creation an’ got a 
glimpse of heaven. Reckon they’s all more or less luna- 
ticky,” and Bill shook his grizzled head as if such 
foolishness was beyond his comprehending. 

At the end of the hour our little party passed sud- 
denly out of the woods and on to a bare table of rocks 
that overlooked the narrow valley of a little river a 
hundred or more feet below them. 

“ That’s th’ American, an’ them’s th’ gold-diggin’s,” 
and Bill pointed down the valley to where a scattered 
camp of tents and log houses and brush shacks and 
weather-beaten prairie-schooners stretched along both 
sides of the river. Roughly-dressed, uncouth-looking 
men were lounging about the camp. Others, scattered 
along the banks of the river, were shovelling gravel 
into long, narrow troughs through which water was 
running or wading about waist deep in the stream or 
standing in the edge of the river twirling large pans 
filled with dirt and water, their eyes intent on the swirl- 
ing contents. 

Their journey was ended. Below them lay the Land 
of Gold. 

[ 432 ] 


The Land of Gold 

And here, for the present, with their eyes fixed on 
the Promised Land, the dangers and hardships of the 
long tramp across plains and over mountains and des- 
erts all past, we will leave our friends, promising all 
who care to follow the further adventures of Ray and 
Arthur and their good friends, not forgetting Scoot, 
during their exciting quest for gold in the mines of 
California, that all these shall be recorded faithfully 
in the second book of the series, wherein the wild and 
romantic life of the California miners of ’49-^50, the 
most dramatic and picturesque in the history of the 
world, will be pictured for the eyes of a generation 
who are reaping where their fathers sowed. 


THE END 


[ 433 ] 


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